


Against the tide, against the odds

by GoldenStyles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 18th Century, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Crime and criminals, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forced Marriage, Harry gets his hair braided by Jonathan Van Ness, Hate to Love, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Sex, Jealous Harry, Jealous Louis, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mild Smut, No Homophobia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Pirates, Pretty much everyone is a pirate, Prostitution, Protective Louis, References to rape (no rape but just to be sure), Sarcastic Louis, Sassy Harry, So much pining it’s ridiculous, if that’s not a reason to read idk what is, name a more iconic duo, way fluffier than you would think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 69,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21944464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenStyles/pseuds/GoldenStyles
Summary: “What was that love?” He drawled, a thick northern accent thriving brightly.Love?Harry didn’t like that at all. At least that’s what he told himself as another wave of butterflies rolled through him.“I asked” he repeated, sharper than his first approach, “if this ship here belongs to you. I require transportation to Genoa port, and I would like someone to take me there.”Young lord Harry Styles’ dream of studying in Italy is dashed when he is placed in an arranged marriage to Prince Maxwell of England. To save himself he runs away with only an address and unanswered questions. He needs a ship, and every ship has a Captain. It just so happens that the captain of the Bluebird is Captain Tommo, the most infamous pirate in the Mediterranean and beyond.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 126
Kudos: 268





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had a pirate fic on my mind since the dawn of time so here she finally is! I’ve had this idea for so long and I’m super excited I finally got around to starting it! I would love to here your thoughts if you take the time to read. It means so much you would even check it out so THANK YOU <3 any grammar or spelling errors are my own and do let me know if there’s a big mistake, I’ll fix it!
> 
> Also sorry Eleanor and The Wanted but I needed some baddies...
> 
> OBVIOUSLY I am NOT affiliated with one direction and it’s members and this story is a work of fiction. I am not proclaiming any of the following as true or accurate representations of real life people

Harry twisted the end of the paintbrush between his teeth, his focus on the canvas in front of him distracting from the ashy flavour. It was a perfectly fine painting, pleasing to the average untrained eye. It captured the essence of a hazy May evening. The pink hues blushed behind the tender paint strokes of clouds while the tulips reached and delicataly fanned them, their sunset colours igniting the foreground.

It was a nice painting, though something was off. He chewed harder on the wood, a habit his tutors chastised him over with every maimed pencil. “You will have to rid yourself of such animalistic behaviour if you are to stand beside the great artists of Florence” they would preach to him before promptly ripping out the utensil. Harry thought they were quite dramatic. One couldn’t help the subconscious of concentration, just as he couldn’t help the way his eyebrows furrowed in the middle and his lips pouted thoughtfully. 

He nearly split it into splinters when a sudden voice piped up behind him.

“Alessandro!” He breathed, stamping a colourful handprint onto his shirt as it flew up over his heart. “I didn’t hear you approaching!”

“My apologies,” his advisor said, bowing his head briefly, “you seemed quite enamoured with your work I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Harry grumbled lightly, “Enamoured wouldn’t be quite the term I would apply.” He took a step back. The new angle offered no help. “It seems you appeared at the opportune moment my friend.”

“I _appeared_ ” Alessandro began, “because your father and Lady Angela have requested you see them immediately in the west wing office” 

Harry hummed but didn’t react. Instead he reached for the titanium white and scooped a dollop of it onto his already clustered palette then turned to the older man with his best set of puppy dog eyes.

“Theres something troubling me about this painting Ales but I can’t quite place it. Maybe a pair of fresh, wise eyes could be so kind to lend me some assistance? Then I suppose you can bore me with whatever father and that witch have to say, excuse my destain.”

Harry was expecting some sort of reprimand for the comment, even if it was true, but his advisor said nothing. Which was rather unusual. “Harry, your father was adamant that you see him and I-“

Harry placed a reassuring hand on his forearm, cutting him off gently. “My dear Alessandro theres no need to be quite so distressed. I doubt there’ll be an executioner awaiting me! As long as you recieve no blame for my punctuality I shall keep him waiting a minute longer. I need to have a broader collection to take with me if I’m going to be at all impressive to these scholars. I’m quite happy with my poetry and the such but my paintings need work. Who better to help me than my most beloved teacher and companion?”

The man sighed but Harry could spot the fond smile teasing his lips. His stubborness had always been both an admired and an infuriating quality for those around him, When Harry set his mind on something, there was no straying him from it. He did silently wonder however what on earth had caused his ever so calm and collected friend to be so unnerved.

“Flattery is for the weak willed” the Italian surmised, but stepped forward and seized the palette nonetheless. He examined the canvas first, taking in the tonalities and composition before beginning his amendments.

Harry may have been slightly flattering to win him over, but he was not lying. Alessandro had taught him everything he knew. Had led him, guided him, even loved him more than his own father ever did. Instead of his dampening and punishing his passion for art, stories and music, Alessandro encouraged them. It helped that he was incredibly talented, having been Harry’s tailor, creative and linguistic tutor his whole life. He made him feel himself and that he wasn’t strange for not wanting to engage in things typical young lord did. He helped him connect with parts of himself that the rest of the world would try to strip him of. 

He was family, the most he had.

Harry watched with a curious gaze as he dappled back and forth between the red and the blue flavours, augmenting and diminshing the shades until he seemed happy with a rich grape colour. He folded some white into it, swirling and blending his puddle of colour until he had concoted a humble lavender. 

He picked up a finer, more acute brush and coated it’s fibres in his creation, effortlessly fluffing it along the underside of the clouds. Suddenly the sky came to life, it’s previous flat and modest landscape flourishing with the introduction of the purple shadowing. Alessandro truly was a genius. 

He turned his body back to Harry with a satisfied expression, placing the palette on the grass underneath the easel to shade the paints from the sun. “Now go set my mind at ease child.” He practically begged, “My old bones can’t endure this sort of stress. This isn’t one of your better pieces anyway”

Harry gasped in mock offence, his hand once again returning to its imprint from his earlier fright. “I was about to dilute your old age worries and then you insult me like so? Do I mean nothing to you anymore?”

“Quite the opposite child, it’s why I worry. Now hurry along.” 

Harry opened his mouth to question what that meant, but stopped himself. He wouldn’t keep Alessandro anxious any longer, he himself now equally as intrigued as to what had caused such uneasiness. He hoped nothing had gone ary, but knowing his father he had probably initiated a fruitless new war or angered some French correspondent. 

He walked his way through the gardens, the sun catching the peaks of the hedges as he thought. Alessandro would never normally be too flustered by those sort of things. Afterall they only had to reside in the walls of Manchester castle for a few more months until the two of them were free.

He reached the stairs for the west wing and scaled up them, waving at the gardener as he passed. Mr. Lyle waved back with a toothy grin, contining to shape the rose bush he was working on. That was one thing about the castle Harry was definitely going to miss when he went to school. The staff as he preferred to call them, unlike his father. He couldn’t have asked for a more caring and lovely group of people to raise him.

He at last reached the office doors, their high and broad mahogany designed to evoke intimidating glory. It was all another part of the show that Harry didn’t care for. He nodded at one of the guards posted outside and pushed, a creak splitting through the wood as they opened. 

“I hear you requested-me” he faltered as he emerged into the room, far more people present than he had anticipated. An entire entourage of knights were tucked in along the borders of the office, all standing to impeccable attention. His father and Lady Angela were behind the desk, conversing amiably with a glamorously clad gentleman in front of them. It took Harry a moment to recognise the ensemble. The lapels, the luxurious fur lining, the blood red coat. 

It was the royal uniform.

His father sighed and shook his head as he took in his sons appearance, the energy Harry had barged in on quickly shifting as all eyes landed on him. He ran an awkward hand through his hair to flatten the wild strands, however there was little he could do to hide his paint caked blouse.

“It seems my stepson has finally decided to grace us with his presence.” Lady Angela commented with a dull sarcasm. “Don’t be so rude and address yourself to the prince please Harry.”

At his title the man spun around. He was a Prince alright.

He was classically handsome Harry supposed. Sallow skin, brown mousy hair that was swept off his face and slicked against his head. He was about average height, though his perfect posture added to it. His lips were pulled in an ever-present smirk that Harry had no doubt drove all the wealthy girls in London mad. His eyes had a glint that only someone of his stature could dare hold.

“Don’t worry M’Lady, the honour is all mine. Even lovelier in person than what I’ve been told” he smized, seemingly unphased by Harry’s dishevelled display as the compliment lingered.

Harry couldn’t quite recall the etiquette rules when greeting a royal as it had never confronted him, so he simply bowed with as much elegance as he could muster. “Pleasure to make your aquaintance prince..em?”

“Prince Tom” he filled in, “There are quite a few of us, very possible to get us confused”

There were five to be exact, though two were only children. Harry had only ever seen them from a distance at noble ceremonies or celebrations, though he had heard they weren’t the most sincere of people to put it lightly. Most likely a product from knowing they could get whatever they wanted whenever they wanted without consequences if they so wished. They had a kind of power and sense of superiority that seperated them from everybody else. Even his father looked subdued and not his usual boastful self in the royal’s presence.

He didn’t know much about Prince Tom, only that he was an excellent swordsman and a raging lady’s man. What he did for months on end in Europe nobody knew. He was the mysterious brother.

“Right. Do excuse my presentation your grace, I wasn’t expecting guests”. He shot a quick glare at his father before returning his attentions, “However if I could be so intrusive, what brings you all the way up here to Manchester?”

He pretended not to notice his father’s attempt to jump in before Prince Tom began to speak.

“Well, Lord Styles and I were just finalsing the details of your relocation to London! It was far less risky for us to make such arrangements in person rather than through letters. Who know’s what sort of person could get their hands on them and ruin the surprise!”

The room went silent. “London sir?” Harry asked hesitantly, begging to be corrected. He must have simply missheard.

The prince gave him a confused expression that bubbled into a chuckle. “Well you hardly thought my brother would part with London just yet, as beautiful as this Manchester coutryside is. Perhaps a holiday destination for both of you in the future? Wouldn’t that be lovely!”

Harry’s could feel his heart quickening as a million emotions surged through him.

“Excuse me, your brother? Both of us?” Harry looked around alarmed, trying to find a face in the room that was as confused as he was. “Your grace I’m afraid there’s been some sort of terrible-“

“Prince Tom I am dreadfully sorry” his father stood up, allowing Harry to catch his breath. “I should have informed you I haven’t told my son of the- agreement. It’s just he can be, lets say...” the Lord paused, “ _difficult_ with such matters and I wanted to make sure everything we had discussed was set in stone before any issues arose. I hope you can be considerate of that.”

If the prince was thrown by the revelation, he didn't show it. “I see” he nodded, gripping his coat openings, “of course my lord I understand. Well I’ll leave you to it then, you have much to discuss.” He made a swift hand gesture and without missing a beat, his knights were filtering from the room in clattering unison. “I bid farewell, my Lord, my Lady” he said before exiting himself, sneaking in a wink as he passed Harry.

That just left Harry, his father and his step mother alone with a suffocating tension.

“Care to insight me on your little “agreement?” he spoke at last, slicing through the tight air with a coldness his voice rarely possessed. If it was any weaker he was afraid he wouldn’t have the strength to hold down the lump in his throat.

His father smoothed over his wiry eyebrows heavily and turned to his wife. “Ang perhaps you should-“

“I’m staying here Desmond.” She snipped, her smug gaze fixed firmly on Harry. ”This is as much about our daughter as it him”

That was the end of that suggestion. Harry’s father have may acted like he was the one in charge, but those who lived in Manchester castle knew well and good it was Angela who held the reins. His father slumped back down into his chair as Harry watched him struggle to find the words. 

And then he said it.

“There has been an arrangement put in place for you to marry Prince Maxwell”

The words slapped him across the face as his blood ran cold. Arrangement. Marry. An arrangement marriage. Harry’s world began to spin as he fought to find his breath, placing a hand on the wall to steady himself. 

This couldn’t be happening.

He frantically ran through his thoughts while his father continued talking, though he could hardly hear him over the pounding in his ears. Each word that perpetrated his panic only widening the pit twisting in his stomach. Two weeks. Wedding. Tomorrow morning. London.

“Now I realise this news may come as a shock but-“

“A shock?” Harry finally managed, his throat dry and tense with the effort to hold back tears. “Oh no father, this is...”, Harry gulped. “I don’t understand? Were we not just discussing my schooling last week? How Alessandro and I are scheduled to sail for Italy in a month to make it in time for September? How have you, between then and now, somehow completely changed your stance on my life?”

His father glanced away for a brief moment before clearing his throat and sitting up straight again, his hint of guilt vanishing as quickly as it had flashed across his face. “You remember the royal Spring ball in February I’m presuming, seen as you made an almighty fuss about it.”

Harry blinked in confusion, but answered. “Unfortunately. However I certainly don’t remember ever conversing with a Prince, let alone giving one a chance to propose a marriage! Prince Maxwell was far too busy yelling at his guards to let him duel with the Duke of Essex in the middle of the waltz if I recall”

“Well apparently he noticed you. We recieved a very enthusiastic letter from the King and Queen a week later with a request for your hand in marriage for their second oldest son.”

There was a beat of quiet as the words sunk in.

“And you said yes” Harry said, more to himself than anyone else as his disbelief disappeared and reality began to set in. “You said yes a week later. What is it now, May? So three months, you kept this from me. Three months, while at the same time leading me to believe I was still going to train in Florence! How could you?” Harry could feel the hot trails running down his cheeks as he backed away from the desk, his eyes already glazed with a watery blur. 

“Enough with the dramatics please Harry” the Lord scolded. He never tolerated vulnerability. Crying was for children and girls, not lords and men. “Myself, your mother and my council thought profoundly over the benefits of such an offer, one that we were honoured to receive I should inform you. This marriage was proposed to us in exchange for some serious political and economic advantages from the Crown. You know as well as any of us do about the strain between the North and South of this country, a union like this is invaluable to restoring order.”

Harry snapped at that. “Don’t you dare patronise me! As if you wouldn’t jump at the first opportunity to aggravate the south into strife for mere entertainment. Nothing brings you more joy than gloating about your military decorations and ancient successes. Don’t pretend you haven’t just ruined my life for some fancy trade deals and a shiny new social status.”

“Watch your tongue boy!” his father warned as he shot up out of his chair, a horrible screech piercing the room. “I kept it from you because I knew this is exactly how you would react. You would fail to see the logical side of the agreement, your head is too filled with silly dreams and fantasy!”

The lord began to pace with intent. “The Queen and King have been searching for a solution to Prince Maxwell’s, somewhat- erratic behaviour. He tends to disagree with his older brother, the Crown Prince. He believes things should be done a certain way and Prince Nathaniel is fearful he will try usurp the throne and enforce his ideas. The King and Queen hope that a marriage might settle him down a little, give him something else to focus on while his brother focuses on learning how to run the kingdom. There’s also the fact that if he marries you, he can produce no heir. Any attempt to overthrow would be in vain if he can’t continue a lineage”

‘Erratic’ was an understatement. While little was known about the life of Prince Tom and even the next heir to the throne Prince Nathaniel, far too much was known about Prince Maxwell. He was notoriously cruel. He’d heard on many occasions that he beat his servants for little or no reason. His maids often would learn about one misfortune or another threw the grapevine. He’d had many previous engagement attempts, all of which ended in disaster.

“Surely you've heard the stories, of what he’s done to other partners he anticipated to marry?” Harry pleaded, trying to draw some pity from his father. “How many of them has there been, three? Four? Lord Albridge’s daughter was unconscious for two days after the prince hit her across the head in a rum fuiled rage.”

His father waved him off. “Those are all nothing but rumours spread by nosy kitchen workers with nothing better to talk of! The prince may not have gotten on with his past partners but his parents had chosen them. _He_ chose you. Out of all those young lords and ladies at the ball you were the one he expressed significant interest in, I couldn’t possibly reject it”

Yes you could have Harry wanted to scream.

“Besides, a firm hand would do you no disservice Harry.” He pointed harshly towards his son. “You are far too disobedient! Don’t think your mother didn’t tell me about the incident with that stable boy! Did you not think I would wonder where you ran off too every evening, only for me to find out you were dining with a punished peasant! A servant who was clearly ordered not to be fed for three days. The stupid boy deserved to be starved for nearly killing my wife!”

Harry felt his hands ball at the memories of the Tuesday afternoon.

“Really, my mother told you about that? That would be rather difficult seen as she died when I was five. As for Lady Angela here I don’t doubt she told you all about it. How she bravely trekked the half-a-kilometre back to the house all by herself. And how she almost had Jack, a fourteen year old child, brutally whipped over something completely out of his control or way of prevention. Yes it’s perfectly reasonable to assume he and the horse had a very in depth conversation about when and where to buck her off the saddle! Though I suspect she left out the part where her wig had been jolted so far back on her head you could see her awfully receding hairline.”

Lady Angela’s gasp was the only good thing Harry had heard since the start of the argument.

“Harry!” His father exclaimed, “This is exactly the sort of misdemeanor I’m talking about. That is no way to talk to the Lady of the house. If she had taken a harder fall she could have been seriously injured!”

“A shame really. Maybe it would have knocked her head hard enough so she could actually experience some emotion”

“You spiteful-”

“And that’s just one example!” His father leaped in, civilising what was about to turn into a nasty back and forth. “Your far too lenient with all the servants. How could I be expected to entrust you as lord of this house when you exhibit this sort of behaviour, what sort of leader would be? Not even able to uphold punishment to control your household.”

His father let out a sound of frustration.”Even as a child you never showed any sort of leadership qualities. I would come to see how your lessons were going only to hear you were running wild in the gardens or down mingling with the townspeople! You fell asleep during every political meeting I ever tried to get you involved in. You yawned when the Portuguese foreign dignitary asked you your opinion on the European trade agreement we had just spent five hours brokering!”

“It was early in the morning and I was eleven!” Harry defended. “Should I also have been starved for such a heinous crime?”

“You have abysmal interest in military strategy or our current war affairs” his father continued. “No matter how many times I tried to put a sword in your hand you would never cooperate. You were terrified of guns and locked yourself in you bedroom whenever I tried to take you on a hunt. You cried for days when I made you kill your first rabbit!”

Harry stepped forward. “A good leader does not have to be one of violence and power. A good leader is supposed to inspire people, not inspire fear.”

His father scoffed. “Are those some words of wisdom from that daft european advisor of yours that you are so fond of. I blame him for all of this. He’s the one that always indulged you with all this nonsense about painting and reading and the like. Things that will never get you anywhere in life. What use are you off galavanting in some Italian countryside with dillusioned old philosophers who think they know everything. No, this is far better for you.”

“This is far better for _you_!” Harry cried, hopelessness creeping in. He didn’t know what was even causing his tears now. Hurt, betrayal, anger, fear. Probably a mixture of all four and more. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest, fearful they would notice his shaking hands or his heart rabbiting through his ribcage.

“All this hassle your creating is not going to change my mind Harry.” His father released a humourless simper. “Would you rather it be a woman?”

Harry wiped under his eyes and marched towards the desk, pointing a firm finger down onto it. “I’d rather it be my desicion who I get to love.”

His father matched his defiance, his voice becoming loud and gravelly. “Love is for children’s stories! It’s time you grow up and do something selfless for once in your life! To give something back to this family.”

“This family? This is no family. Families don’t lie to eachother. Besides, she is not my mother and your daughter is no sister of mine.”

“Don’t worry we have fixed that problem.” Harry looked to Lady Angela, who had been largely silent up until then. “If you don’t want to call Eleanor your sister, fine. You can call her your Lady.”

Harry didn’t think it could possibly get worse.

It just did.

“What?”

“Well”, she continued, “you’ll be rather busy tending to your new husband to have any dealings up here, and you’ll be a new prince afterall. No need for a family name when you’re a prince! Eleanor will be a fine heir for the Styles family title, far more than you ever would be.”

Harry was shocked into silence, his heart squeezed dry after it’s outpour. First they had taken his freedom, his dreams and now they had taken away his very name. Lady Angela still had her unnerving smirk plastered on her face as she drank in his despair. This was the day she had been waiting for her whole life.

And that’s when it clicked.

Harry started to laugh. An empty, hollow laugh as the lord watched his son’s behaviour in bewilderment. “Oh I finally see, but clearly father you are a fool”

“You dare to insult me boy” the Lord growled, “Have I not raised you to respect and obey your father?”

“She’s orchestrated all of this. This has been her plan since she married you!“ Harry began to grow hysterical. “She thought by replacing all of mother’s things, forcing you to cut all contact between us and my mother’s side of the family, banning the staff from talking about her, that she would finally be respected as the Lady of Manchester. That she would finally have the power as Lady Styles. However there was always one tiny detail she could never seem to get rid of...”

The Lord’s head was snapping between Harry and his wife, who’s smugness had turned into a sour glare as Harry’s confidence surged. “Me.”

The room was left to burn for several seconds in the aftermath of Harry’s outburst.

His father finally found his voice again, albeit tamer than it had been. “Look at yourself Harry, your talking like a madman. This is what happens when you spend your life daydreaming. No matter how harshly you have treated Lady Angela she always kept your best interests, and the interests of Manchester at heart.”

“Look at me?” Harry scoffed pathetically, “Look at yourself father! Can’t you see? Her daughter will rule with her by her side, whispering in her ear every step of the way while you are left to sit in your chair and sign off on some papers. She has complete control over you and you can’t even see it. For Gods sake she coerced you into selling your own child! What would Gemma and mother think-“

“Enough!” The Lord bellowed, rattling the crystal chandelier hanging heavily above them. “I will not bear anymore of these accusations! I recommend you get some rest, it’s a long way to London so you and Prince Tom will be leaving at first light. Go start packing and don’t try anything stupid. You are not the first noble born child to be placed in an arranged marriage nor will you be the last. Now be out of my sight.”

His father was right about one thing. Harry was tired. He was exhausted fighting this losing battle and feeling helpless as his life got ripped from him. A terrifying numbness began to well up inside as he felt his will to fight for himself slipping away. His father had his back turned to him now, while Lady Angela watched him blankly. 

His hand flew to his hair with a shaky breath before he made his way to the door. “Sight?” He said, a weak hand pulling the door ajar. “Father, for your sake I hope you gain some”

The door closed behind him with a conclusive thud.

When Harry reached his chambers, he couldn't fight it anymore.

He slumped against his door as his chest heaved and ragged breaths were pulled out of him, all his hope falling away as he sobbed. He gasped for air, frantically looking around his bed chambers for something. Anything that would ground him and help this nightmare make sense.

He clawed at his shirt to find his necklace, one of the last things he had of his mother’s. If his father knew he wore it he would go ballistic but Harry never took it off. He always made sure it was tucked into his clothes so nobody could see the part of her he kept with him. He clutched it’s pendent in his trembling hand, hoping for some relief and some answers.

He couldn’t run away. It would never work. He would have nowhere to run to and nowhere to go. If they had the hound dogs to help, the guards would catch up with him in mere minutes. He would be surrounded by sea and open countryside on every side, nowhere for him to hide. 

Yet, he had nothing left to lose.

He hauled himself up and crossed the room to his window sill. He peered down past the glass, gaging if he would make the jump or break his legs. He wondered if he would care either way. Surely they couldn’t force him to travel such a long journey with a pair of broken legs? Who would want to marry him anyway if he was to be a cripple for the rest of his life?

A knock on his door startled him. He snatched himself away from the window ledge as if the person behind the wood could see him. He presumed it was his chambermaid coming to collect his laundry.

He sniffled and tried to mask his thick voice. “I’d like to be left alone tonight if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll bring down my laundry tomorrow”

“It’s me bambino, please let me in” 

The surprise of the muffled voice sent him racing towards the door. Sure enough Alessandro was standing there, his own eyes wet and pitiful. 

Harry lunged forward and wrapped his arms around his friend, crying quietly into his neck while Alessandro gently shushed him.

“I heard child, I heard” he consoled, rubbing a hand up and down his back. “One of the guards posted outside the office had come down and told us earlier what he suspected, but we all prayed it wasn’t true”

That explained why he had been so worried. It seems everybody in the castle had known before he did.

They ended up on the foot of Harry’s poster bed, Alessandro petting his hair and whispering soft Italian comforts as he was gathered up in his arms. It was just like he was a child again.

During the cruel nights when his father would yell at him over one apparent wrong doing or another, or perhaps a night where he missed his mother’s singing voice, he’d scurry through the cold castle halls into his soft spoken teacher’s quarters. He would nestle up beside him as he’d tell stories. Stories of his home village, how he met Anne, silly memories about Gemma when they were younger. Harry used such stories to keep his mother and sister alive when everyone would have him forget about them.

“I can’t do it Ales” he whispered, eyes glazed, “He’ll kill me. I-I won’t do what he tells me to or I’ll be so s-stupidly stubborn and he-he’ll be drunk and-“

“Shhhhh that’s not going to happen” the older man soothed, rocking him slightly.

Harry slowly uncurled himself from his advisors hold and looked sorrowfully into his deep brown eyes. “But it will happen. You’ve heard what he does to people for the smallest things, even for nothing at all! How can I-“ Harry’s breathing quickened. “What am I supposed to do on our wedding night when he wants to have me? I can’t go through that Ales, I won’t endure it! I’d rather die than-“

Alessandro gripped him by his shoulders, stopping him from going any further. “Harry you’re not marrying Prince Maxwell”

Harry gazed at his advisor, desperately unsure of where his burst of certainty was coming from. “I’ve denied it as much as you have and I’ve tried to think of any alternative way but everything is arranged and has been for months.”

“And I have been arranging things for far longer” Alessandro revealed with a hint of a smile. In a blink he was up off the bed and pulling over a suitcase Harry hadn’t even noticed he had brought with him. He was moving with focus as he came back towards the bed, muttering things to himself.

“You mean expected this to happen?” Harry asked, watching perplexed as he popped open the clips of the leather luggage and let the two halves fall either side. The contents were minimum. A woolen coat, a few shirts and pants, a notebook. Then strangely enough and by far the most random object, a compass. An ornate, beautiful compass that shined as if it was brand new. It gave Harry no further idea as to what was happening.

Alessandro sighed irritability as he rooted through the clothes. “Like this? No never. It seems your stepmother has twisted your father beyond recognition.” 

Harry could definitely agree with that.

“I never anticipated you would make this journey by yourself, but this will have to do. Time has been cruel to us.” He threw the coat to Harry and slammed the suitcase sealed once again. 

“Quick, put that on so we can make our way towards the back balcony. You can safely reach the ground from there. The sun is just low enough in the sky so you can make an escape concealed enough and still find your way to the port.

Make an escape? Harry was completely lost but he did what Alessandro said, tugging the coat around himself as fast as he could. “The port? What is waiting for us at the port?”

“Not for us my child, for you”, Alessandro admitted, “I can’t leave just yet, I have people relying on me here, promises I have to keep.”

Harry paused, “Your not coming with me?”

Alessandro took his hand sympathetically, “Bambino you don’t deserve this and I wish I could tell you everything but it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. I’ve had over a decade to plan this and everything had been going perfectly up until now.” He huffed. “We had the ship and everything ready to sail”. He plucked up the case and burst his way back into the corridors, Harry trailing after.

Harry trotted to keep up with him as they manoeuvred through the halls, his advisor unbothered about being spotted as he marched around the corners without caution.

“Be careful” Harry said under his breath, “we don’t want to be seen.”

Alessandro cracked into a short laugh. “Don’t worry about that, everybody knows what I am doing. Mrs. Montegue and the other kitchen maids were inconsolable. Everyone is on our side, trust me”

“You have never given me a reason not to”, Harry assured as they reached the balcony, “but I have so many questions. If not this, them what did you have all this preparation for? You said a decade? What on earth takes a decade to plan? And when I get to the port where am I going, who’s taking me there. What’s going to happen when father finds out I’m gone?”

Alessandro leaned down at one of the pillars railing the balcony and tugged on a makeshift’s bed sheet rope that had been planted there. When he was confident it was secure, he beckoned Harry over. 

“I understand your confusion Bambino, and I had so much hope that we would make it to September and everything could be revealed at last but not anymore. I can’t give you what you want and what you need right now, it’s far too long and complicated of a story for me to leave it with you as a passing comment.”

Everything was changing so quickly for Harry that he could only nod, doing his best to process. Alessandro reached out and cupped his face with one hand, a careful thumb rubbing over his stained skin. “Please child if you ever find it in your heart to forgive me, let it do so. If not straight away, with time? All of this I’m doing out of my love for you and your family.”

“I may not understand entirely what is going on right now” Harry began, “but I am certain of one thing. You have never done me wrong and I owe you my life. If this is the risk you want me to take then I shall embark with all my faith. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Even in the dimming light Harry could see the silver shimmer of tears cascading down his closest friend’s cheeks. “I hope so child, I truly hope so. Now, I need you to listen very carefully. I need you to remember every detail of what I’m about to tell you. Neither you nor I can write it down incase the paper is misplaced. Understand.

Harry nodded fervently.

“12, via del sole, Genoa. When you get there you need to say a dove sent you. Say it back to me Harry.”

12, via del sole, Genoa. Tell them a dove sent me. But Italy? Alessandro I can’t go to school anymo-“

“This isn’t about arts school Harry, it never really was,” he said, trailing off, “Once a month since you were five, I have sent the sum of my weekly earnings to this address. Go to the port and find transportation, as quick as you can. Once you get to Genoa everything will make sense and that amount of money should be enough to sustain you for a long time, until you can hold down a job that is.” He broke into a sad smile. “Try sell one or two of those poetry collections you have hidden under all this, I’ve taught you everything you need to know” he teased while ruffling his hair fondly, both of them softly crying now. 

Harry was sure he had ran out of tears to cry, but knowing this was a final goodbye had broken his heart more than anything had that evening

“Will I ever see you again?” He asked, his voice breaking as he held Alessandro’s hand against his cheeck a moment longer. The thought that it might be the last time was causing him to crumble. The last time to see his home, his friends. The last time to see the life he could have had, the person he could have been.

“I hope so child, more than anything” Alessandro breathed, leaning up to kiss him gently atop his head. He led Harry over the the balcony edge and handed him the rope. Harry clutched onto the fabric and carefully hauled himself down, his feet settling on the pebble pavement. He looked up, taking a final memory of Alessandro as he handed him down the suitcase. 

“Now go, and may all our blessing be with you.”

With a final glance and a pulling in his chest, he started to run.

~+~

By the time Harry reached the port, a deep orange glow had settled over the landscape. He hadn’t even felt the time pass as he raced through the forest trails one last time. The ones he would sneak off through when he was supposed to be in law studies. He had kept himself moving forward the whole way, refusing to give himself a glance back around. If he did he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from freezing, even with the knowledge of what was left for him there.

The address Alessandro had given to him repeated itself like the tic of a clock in the forefront of his mind while he emerged into the nightlife of Manchester port. He had come down with Alessandro plenty of times, but that had always been in the morning. In the summer evening, it was another world.

There was music spilling from somewhere, jovial horns and cheers echoeing around the stalls and streets at the waterfront. The port was lit up by hanging lanterns, glowing gold as if they had captured the sun inside for the evening. The sea air hung heavy and clung to his skin, a salty taste marinating on his lips. Fisherman stood on top of barrels, hollering last minute deals over the raucous to entice a wandering customer. Harry had to duck when an opportunistic seagull nearly took his eye out in an attempt to snatch a sardine. There were men blatantly fighting in the streets while others egged them on with tankards in hand, sloshing beer everywhere. It was chaos.

He held onto the handle of his suitcase tightly as he wiggled through the crowd, well aware he had no security anymore to stop him from being robbed. He was just like everyone else. He wasn’t a lord anymore, he wasn’t rich, he was invisible. It was both a terrifying and freeing thought.

As he neared the far end of the boardwalk where all the large boats resided, the shock of the atmosphere had passed and he returned to his objective. Alessandro had been fairly vague about how he should go about finding transportation, but he knew he needed to be fast. The quicker he left the port the less chance there was he would be caught.

Then he spotted a boat. No, not a boat, that would do it injustice. It was a ship. A huge, imposing ship that was preparing for departure as men rolled barrels of alcohol and hauled other supplies onboard. It had definitely been through some rough times, it’s wooden hull mishaped and discoloured from repair jobs. Harry decided it attested to it’s stability. Despite it’s appearance there was rather tender name scrolled onto the side, slightly faded but was perfectly legible as ‘Bluebird’. Anyone with a ship called The Bluebird couldn’t be all that intimidating right?

His eyes landed on a group of men at the base of the ramp leading into The Bluebird. If Harry could provide the perfect description for a crew of sea men, they would look exactly like these. They were burly and boisterous, with shaggy hair and beards falling down their faces. Their clothes were- interesting. Patchwork leather assortments and ragged bandanas seemed to be the trend. He winced as he noticed some limbs replaced by wooden structures, and he had to stop himself gagging when he saw an unfortunate hand with only three fingers.

However one person most definitely stood out, Harry found, as his eyes followed their direction of interest. All the crew were enthralled by him as he leaned against a tower of crates, at ease and rattling off some story that had seemingly captured all their attention.

He wasn’t dressed like his crew. There were no holed vest or makeshift rope belts in sight. Instead he had a long, midnight blue coat that stopped around the ankle of his boots. The boots were jet black, the leather bearing an inky shine. The coat had a gold thread trimming, almost good enough to contend with Alessandro's craftmanship. Harry’s eyes flitted away from the holstered steel that sat finely on his hip, the weapon looking dangerously comfortable. He couldn’t see the figure’s face as a sweeping hat with a matching blue feather sown into it shadowed his features, adding to the air of intrigue around him. The only thing he could make out was a light dusting of scruff around his jaw and the carving of defined cheekbones as the warm light hollowed them.

There was no doubt he was the Captain. As he added the aspects together, Harry was almost certain of what kind of captain, which struck both a shivering fear and an undying curiosity within him. 

Harry knew he should have turned around and looked for someone else who was less likely to kill him on sight, someone who didn’t look overtly contented with a sword at arms reach. Someone who probably wasn’t a pirate.

But he didn’t. 

Time was running out as more and more ships departed from the harbour and Harry would rather be sliced up by a fashionable outlaw than be dragged back to live out his other fate. It didn’t help either that a niggling voice in the back of his brain, the spark that always seemed to get him into trouble, had come to life. The one that ached for adventure and excitement - and it hadn’t killed him yet.

Harry sighed and exhaled a silent prayer. He strode with as much self- assuredness as he could manage up to the crowd while the Captain kept on talking, several of the crew sending him odd looks as he got closer. All he had to do was pretend he wasn’t scared shitless and his life depended on this. Easy.

He held his head high and cleared his throat behind the captain, who was still oblivious. Everyone else had gone deathly quiet.

“Are you the owner of this vessel sir?” He asked, forcing out a note of assertiveness.

It instantly disappeared when the captain turned around.

He was far younger and exceedingly more handsome than Harry had anticipated, causing his nerves to stir wildly again much to his irritation. Harry could see why the crew was so entranced. His hooded eyes had pinned him in place, their ocean colour drowning him while they drifted up and down Harry’s frame. That only served to heighten his self consciousness as he grew hot under the scrutiny, not that the captain seemed to care. His whole demearnor exuded an utter bold and blind confidence. One that could charm a conman and fool a jester. Harry had been wrong. It wasn’t only prince’s that could possess a certain glint of power and thrill.

“What was that love?” He drawled, a thick northern accent thriving. 

_Love?_ Harry didn’t like that at all. At least that’s what he told himself as another wave of butterflies rolled through him. 

“I asked” he repeated, sharper than his first approach, “if this ship here belongs to you. I require transportation to Genoa port and I would like someone to take me there.”

The captain leaned off the crates to give Harry his undivided attention. He was noticeably closer than he had been, his full presence overwhelming despite being a little shorter than him. Harry took a gentle step backwards.

“Is that so?” the captain replied, clicking his tongue softly as he intently watched the young Lord’s reactions. This was proving to be a lot more difficult than Harry first imagined. Maybe he’d rather have been killed on the spot then engage in whatever game this unfairly attractive _pirate_ for god’s sake, was playing with him.

Harry kept firm eye contact as a last line of defence. “It is.”

“What, dearest mummy and daddy finally said no? Did they finally deny their beloved child a portion of fortune so now he’s storming off to prove them wrong?”

Harry was taken aback. That was certainly a specific concept. Did he know who he was? No, he couldn’t possibly. Harry was certain he would remember if he ever met the man in front of him. Even if the captain had spotted him once or twice from a distance travelling in and out with Alessandro, the waining sunlight would help mask any familiarity. The wool knitted coat he was wearing wasn’t exactly high end either and wouldn’t lead back to money.

“Why do you postulate that I’m from any sort of wealth?” he asked.

The captain scoffed. “Well reason number one, only posh people say words like ‘postulate’.” He spun around far too smoothly to address his crew. “Any of you lot know what ‘postulate’ means?”

He was met by a silence until a lanky boy with a lob-sided nose piped up, “Yeah actually! She winked at me earlier down the road if your looking for one”

The men burst into riotous laughter. Harry rolled his eyes. Postulate and prostitute were entirely unrelated.

“I’ll make a conscience effort to avoid large words as part of my offer”, he said flatly.

The captain however was wonderfully amused. Not by the ill-flavoured joke, but rather Harry himself. “You know love it’s pretty dangerous for people like you to go around demanding such favours off of strangers. _Especially_ strangers like me. Did your parents never teach you that curly, with all those servants and rules? Don’t talk to strangers?” 

_Curly_. Harry took a deep breath. “I’m not a child and I assure you I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions. To answer your previous question, they don’t know I’m here. There was a um-conflict of interest.”

That was one way of putting it.

The captain raised his eyebrows. “Must have been a pretty big argument if your running away to Italy. What they wouldn’t buy you new curlers or something?”

Harry was definitely not going into the details. Another reason he would have been a rubbish politician was his lack of basic deception skills. He didn’t have time to flesh out a dramatic retelling and there was no way he could just explain the truth. If the captain knew why he was running away, he would never take him on board. Nobody wanted to be on a prince’s bad side. Harry tried not to feel horribly selfish that he was maybe putting somebody in danger. He was a pirate afterall, danger was supposedly second nature. 

“I’m thrilled to inform you I’ve never used curlers in my life and I happen to quite like my hair.”

Harry’s annoyance only widened the captain’s grin. “I never said I didn’t love.”

“And my name is not _love_ or _curly_. Its Harry.”

He cursed himself for not thinking through the risks of using his real name.

“Harry” the captain echoed, “well lads isn’t that a lovely posh little name?”

Harry tried to mask his relief that the name hadn’t alerted him to his identity, “I believe when one introduces themselves the polite response is to return the favour.” 

“I’m sure you’ve already heard of me love.”

“Well do affirm your suspicions.”

“He’s only bloody Captain Tommo” came a voice from the middle, quickly followed by a proudly stated, “Yeah, and we’re the Donny Rovers!”

The captain, Tommo as it has been revealed, lifted his hat off and took a mock bow. “The most courageous, cunning, ruthless and devilishy handsome pirate on the seas, your majesty” he announced flamboyantly, flipping the hat back onto his head. Harry was glad for that. He pushed his brief glance of fluffy caramel hair to the back of his mind.

“I can’t say I’ve heard” he said, not missing the way Captain Tommo’s face dropped from the wounded ego, “however now we are properly aquainted I’d like to propose my earlier offer once again”

The pirate hummed. “Sorry to disappoint you curly but I don’t deal in delivery services” he leaned in closer. “Though, all cards on the table here, if you require other kinds of servicing I’d be more than happy to offer my expertise.”

Harry looked at him confused for a moment while his crew broke put into whistles and playful cheers. His eyes blew wide when the insinuation hit him like a rock. 

“Oh no no no no. _No_ “, He blurted with a firm hand signal. “There are no cards on such a table, none at all. There’s not even a table.” The captain looked back at him, a mischievous tilt in his smile. He needed to think of something fast, something that would hold the captain’s interest just a little longer to convince him. Something that wasn’t...

That.

He was sure he knew the one thing pirates valued more than sex. He hoped Alessandro was telling the truth.

“If you are a pirate like you claim to be, you care about riches. Treasure and the such, do correct me if I’m stereotyping. A full month’s wages from a highly regarded tutor accumulated over thirteen years, that’s my wealth that resides in Italy. I’m sure such a courageous, cunning and ruthless captain such as yourself is capable of basic maths and can tell that’s a substantial amount of wealth”

“You forgot devilishly handsome.” He winked, as if that was the most important part of anything he had just said. Harry was growing more frustrated. His time was running out. Each second he wasn’t on the boat was a second a castle guard could come tearing around the corner.

And he wasn’t going back.

“Oh would you look at that it seems I did” he replied, unimpressed. “If you and your ship can get me to Italy safely, it’s all yours. I’m sure you’ve made far more treacherous journeys. All you have to do is sail into Genoa port and you’ve got yourself more riches than you could gather in years of pitiful plundering”

The captain didn’t chime in with a comment this time, to Harry’s relief. He seemed to be genuinely thinking it over, his eyes narrowing. Then he started to move. He was walking past harry and around him like a shark toying with it’s prey. Harry kept his gaze forward and focused on keeping his knees from wobbling, acutely aware of the blade tucked under the captain’s coat. 

“And what if you die?” He perked up behind him “You don’t look like you’re cut out for a rough and tumble lifestyle.” Harry felt one of his curls be tugged on gently and spring back up, rendering him completely still. “It’s a big scary world out there, and i’m willing to bet you’ve never even stepped foot out of whatever fancy castle you came from.” The captain contined to circle agonisingly slowly until he was on his right side. He felt a blue gaze piercing through him.

“The horrors are endless! Say I agree to this little proposal, putting myself _and_ my crew at risk for you, and then you get killed or kidnapped? No more treasure for me is there? Why on earth would you trust me in the first place? I’m sure I could make a pretty penny far easier and far quicker by handing you in to some brothel in Port Royal than sailing to Genoa for a wealth I don’t even know exists.“

Harry wasn’t entirely sure what the Captains approach was with that. Was he telling him not to trust him? Was he threatening him? Was he _flirting_ with him? All three at once perhaps? Every possibility made him equally as nervous.

“Port Royal would be an awful long journey just to find a brothel Captain.” He commented, hoping to relieve some tension. “Besides, the fortune I have for you in Genoa far exceeds whatever you would get for me.”

He was once again face to face with the captain, a twinkling in his eye that ignited something under Harry’s skin. “You underestimate yourself curly.”

Harry had never met anybody so upfront. Someone with such a lack of shame who could say things like that at any time they wanted. Even the prince’s had to court people, that’s why he was to be sent to London a few days earlier. That was the whole point of those ridiculous balls Harry had to attend over the years. Everything had to be done properly, under proper supervision and in a proper conservative manner. 

Not that any of this was proper. Running away from an arranged marriage with a pirate. The rebelliousness made him slightly giddy.

“How about an insurance policy then.” He offered on a whim. Harry had said it before he enough knew what he was going to give up.

The captain tapped his lip, “And what could you have packed away in that little suitcase that I don’t already?”

Harry paused. He didn’t have anything at all valuable, besides the compass. Surely common sense would dictate that a pirate already had plenty of compasses. He had left everything behind, his coins, his sentiments, his jewellery.

Except for one piece.

“I’m waiting” Captain Tommo said, forcing Harry into a horrible inner debate. He had never been without it, and now that he couldn’t go back home there was nothing else he had to remind him. If he gave it up there was a very likely chance he would never see it again. He could lose her.

However if there was anything that was worth risking his life on, he had to make that choice. He let out a shallow breath as he unhooked his necklace from the back, knocking his hair to one side to reach the clasp.

“Pure plated gold pendant with Indian gems”, he said, hestitantly holding the pendant out in his hand as the captain watched him carefully. He tried to memorise it’s exact details incase it was the last time he would ever hold it. “If a difficulty does occur and I am unable to fulfill my promise, this would be more than enough to pay off my expenses.”

The Captain reached out and plucked the necklace from his palm to inspect it. He twirled it between his fingers, tapping the green gemstone to make sure it was real. It looked wrong in someone elses grip. He couldn’t help feeling like he was betraying her by giving it away, but it had to work.

“I’ll earn my keep while onboard.” He added. “I may not know much about sailing but I can cook, I can clean, I’ll do anything you want me to. Within reason of course.”

The captain glanced up, still dangling the necklace between his hands, “Anything I want?” He said, a suggestive lilt sugaring his voice. 

“You forgot the within reason part.”

The captain took a step forward, his heel clicking off the wooden boardwalk while Harry stood his ground until they were practically chest to chest. “Would you look at that, it seems I did.”

God his eyes were _really_ blue this close.

Harry put a hand out between them, pleading the barrier would cool down the heat in his face. “Do we have a deal or not Captain?”

Captain Tommo eyed him for a few painful seconds. Harry was sure he could sense the desperation palpatating off him while the crew waited for their Captain’s decision. This was it. This was his last chance to save his life. 

The Captain seized his hand. “I believe we have a deal, love”

“Excellent!” Harry exclaimed, before snapping his mouth shut and brushing away his joyous relief. “I em-yes, glad we could come to an agreement” he nodded shaking the captains hand. He hated how nicely it fitted into his. “and its Harry.” 

“Don’t worry I remembered.” Captain Tommo winked with a squeeze, “Curly, welcome aboard The Bluebird”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my lovelies thank you for making it to the end! I’m well aware this is a SUPER LONG first chapter, they won’t all be this time consuming promise! Your opinions would mean the world to me if you had time <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY this took so long to get out but January hit me like a rock lmao but SHES HERE FINALLY!! Enjoy my lovelies, hopefully three will be out sooner rather than later!
> 
> Slight tw// brief brief mention of attempted sexual assault in the past.

Harry watched from the railing as Manchester fell back into the clouds while they sailed away. The lights became flickering orbs in the distance, the dark outline of the populous coast blending into the murky atmosphere. He scanned the horizon line for a hopeful moment, wondering if he would be able to see the top of the Styles residence. A last fleeting memory of his home he could hold onto incase he never saw it again.

It was much too far away, he knew that, but he still tried.

He could feel everyone’s eyes as they rushed around pulling on snaking ropes and adjustings sails. He knew what he looked like to them. Someone who had no business there. Someone who was using them for a means to an end. He knew nothing about this life they lived, how they lived it. He was the odd one out. He always seemed to be. 

He heard a short whistle and he whipped around, keeping a hand on the steady railing. He was still getting used to the rocking underneath him as the Bluebird moved with the waves.

The captain was standing with another guy who Harry hadn’t noticed at the port. He wasn’t sure how. He had striking dark features that cut and modelled his face, giving him a sculpted appearance that the artists of the renaissance would revel in. His raven hair fell around his ears and stubble shaded underneath his sharp cheekbones. His eyebrow were thick and straight as they shielded an intimidating gaze.

“Zayn, can you take our new passenger here to my quarters”, Captain Tommo ushered, not taking his eyes from Harry as he gave the command.

“Course Captain”, the other lad said with a curt nod. The Captain lingered for another minute before striding off. 

He and Zayn looked between eachother before the latter wordlessly started walking in the opposite direction. Harry presumed that meant he was to follow. 

He struggled to keep track of the ebony figure as he ducked and manoeuvred his way through the new environment, his already clumsy legs struggling to find firm footing on the bustling deck. He squeaked out a timid apology each time he bumped into one of the crew in his pursuit, getting repaid with a disgruntled glance and a snarl as if they had never heard one before. 

Perhaps they hadn’t.

Eventually they arrived at a door near the back of the ship that led into a staircase. It was the captain’s cabin. It was one of the largest sections of the ship, with some gold decorative oil lamps hung outside. Zayn hadn’t said a word until he closed the door behind them, blocking out the noise from the ship’s activity. He looked at Harry, hazel eyes fiery with suspicion. 

“You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into”, he said frostily, taking a step back so Harry would go in front of him. From first impressions, he had gathered that Zayn wasn’t his biggest fan, but he was offended that he thought he could actually _hurt_ him if given the chance. He didn’t think he looked the type to push someone down a flight of stairs unmotivated. Though Harry didn’t comment and obliged, feeling the piercing gaze prickling the back of his neck as he was marched down the steps. 

“Whatever shall come from this, I assure you is better than what could have been”, he eventually replied when they reached the bottom. The boy’s eyes narrowed like a hawk at his ambiguity, but he didn’t press. He opened the door to the captain’s office.

“Stay here and don’t touch anything, the captain will be here soon.” 

He shut the door roughly and locked it after himself.

Harry glanced around quietly, trying to absorb the rapid change of scenery. He had never been anywhere like this. He felt like he had walked into a travelling bizarre. An odd museum of the mismatched and the random. A heavy curtain was pulled across a section of the office concealing part of the left side. Underneath his feet was a patterned carpet, sown with the flavours of Asian influences as it concealed the creaky planks. It was frayed and marred, the edges of it spiking out as it reached a desk. 

He knew he had been told not to touch anything, but he had a curious soul. When he spotted the array of objects splayed across the desk, he couldn’t help himself from being drawn in.

There were dimpled whiskey bottles with labels showing off different languages from places Harry could only imagine. A globe was mounted on the corner with pins and strings connecting countries and continents. Harry had seen globes before obviously, but this one looked used. It looked like the countries painted onto it had been investigated and traveled to, and weren’t simply decorations planted in the mass of blue. Like the world was available and open to explore and not a faraway land he couldn’t reach. Something about the idea excited Harry.

Beside that was an open jewellery box, and Harry’s eyes widened at the collection of precious gems glistening inside. Small cuts of emeralds, a chunky ruby rolled on it’s side and a silver pocket watch with a blue diamonds encrusted into it. He feared to know how the pirate had aquired them.

A series of plaques were displayed on the wall behind the desk. He ran his hand across metal casting of grand ship on the first plaque, his fingers dipping in and out of the ornate details. He spotted a name engraved underneath. The Bluebird. He looked at the shape again and indeed it was a likeness of the boat he was on. He recognised the towering middle mast that anchored the whole vessel. 

His eyes flitted across the other plaques, each paired with a matching replica. The Silver Swallow. The Magdeline. The Blackrock. The—

The door suddenly burst open and he ripped his hand back to his chest. Harry jumped away from the plaques, cursing himself for not hearing the jangle of keys unlocking the door. 

The captain raised his eyebrow. “Having fun nosying around?”

His cheeks heated up. “I was simply admiring captain”, he replied, hoping he sounded less embarrassed then he was at being caught red-handed. Curiosity killed the cat was the old saying. Harry had always seemed to avoid that faith, but things worked differently here. 

“Admiring my trophies?” the pirate asked, interested. _Trophies?_ Harry wasn’t sure how they could be trophies. There was already a plaque for the Bluebird, what were the other ones for? Harry ran his eyes across the row one more time. 

“Where are these boats now?”

The captain pulled out his office chair and slumped down into it before answering. “Still rotting at the bottom of the ocean I presume.”

Harry didn’t miss the ominous suggestion in the captain’s answer. “And why presume that?”

Captain Tommo’s eyes flashed with something electric. Something that sent a shock of bristles down Harry’s spine as the pirate relaxed back into the velvet. “Because it was my ship that put them there.”

Trophies.

They were trophies of ships that the captain in front of him had sank and there were about twelve of them. The ease and calmness the pirate had made the statement with caused Harry to audibly gulp.

There were some things he wished he just didn’t ask.

Captain Tommo leaned foreward and crossed his arms on the desk, startling clear eyes delving into him. “Done with your inquisition princess?” 

Harry rolled his eyes despite himself, relief washing over him when the pirate didn’t seem to notice. His new knowledge had made him all the more wary of what position he had put himself in. “I am no sort of princess I assure you.”

An unwilling prince-to-be maybe, but not a princess.

“Listen curly, I couldn’t give two shits about who you are or what you were”, the pirate began, a cooler tone to his voice than the flirtatious lilt he had had at the port, “Your class and your wealth mean nothing to me or anyone else. Your on my ship now. On my waters. You may not have had to answer to anybody where you came from, but here you answer to me.”

Harry just nodded. If only he knew just how many people he had to answer to about his own life, they wouldn’t be talking to each other right now.

“My crew tell you to do something, you do it. I tell you to do something, you do it. I believe you’ll agree that in my kind charity I have had to put off all my previous plans. If I find this little arrangement isn’t working out or you can’t stick to the terms of agreement then well...” he clasped his hands together, “I’ll have to do something about it.”

Harry wanted to say it wasn’t exactly charity work if he was getting well paid for it but he held his tongue. He wasn’t dealing with his father, Lady Angela or even Eleanor here. He didn’t have to like the captain or his flair for the dramatics, he just had to not get himself killed.

“Wouldn’t expect anything less captain”, he simply stated instead.

The captain’s hard lines eased up a little. “Good. Glad I made that clear. Now, tomorrow you’ll get the grand tour of our humble abode and you’ll get something to do. Everybody on board has to contribute, which for you may take some getting used to. Looking at your hands earlier you clearly have no experience doing any actual work.”

Harry overlooked the condescending tone in the comment. “My hands? I wasn’t aware they were so philosophical.”

“You can tell a lot about a person by their hands” the captain said. He pursed his lips for a moment before beckoning him over with a nod. Harry figured it was less of a request. 

He approached tentatively and took a seat opposite where the pirates palms lay open and inviting on a cleared part of the desk. The twelve ships were running through his mind as his own hand stuttered forward to rest in the captain’s, the thoughts of what he had committed with those very hands causing him falter. Had he killed someone with them, stabbed someone, strangled someone?

He let out a sharp gasp when the pirate put a halt to his toing and froing and seized his hand himself. The pirate eyed him with a sparkling amusement before he began.

“They’re pale, meaning you’ve never spent too much time outdoors. If you have you had access to shade, so that rules out manual labour”, he claimed, tossing Harry’s larger hand between his own. As strange as it was, Harry started picking up on some finer details he hadn’t got a chance to when they briefly shook hands. Like the weathered callouses that gently grazed his knuckles as they inspected.

He also noted that the captain was correct, at least in comparison. The captain’s hands were indeed a much darker golden colour that crisped with signs of long days in the sun. Aside from a milky jagged scar that was raised on his skin. It started between his middle and index finger and trailed off around the base of his thumb in a half moon shape. Harry fought not to cringe just imagining what could have caused it.

“There’s dried paint under your nails”, he continued, “and some left on the side of your hand from leaning on the canvas. A leisurely activity you do in your spare time. Its not your full time job because if it was your hands would be stained a darker colour from the continuous use of cheap paint and not washing them.” 

Harry was quite impressed with that one. He couldn’t count the amount of times he had been yelled at for not washing his hands after a painting session and having his skin briefly stained in a dark pink for a fancy party. Lady Angella usually forced him into itchy cotton gloves to save her facing embarrassment from her gaggle of gossiping lady friends.

He really didn’t like that woman.

Harry dared to glance up while the pirate was still in full concentration. Harry swore the blue of his eyes shone brighter when they were focused. His pulled brows were framed by a messy brown fringe that looked alluringly soft. It wasn’t oily or matted, wasn’t crawling with all sorts of creatures he would have expected to see in a scandalous pirate’s hair. It was just soft. 

Harry found himself only half listening to what he was saying anymore. 

“They're mostly completely smooth except for slight rope burn. Easy to spot, men on ships get it all the time. But why would you have one? Unless you were making an escape from somewhere. Out a window perhaps, not wanting to get caught at any obvious exits like doors.”

The captain’s eyes flitted up then and met Harry’s, a small smirk arising when he realised he had caught the younger boy staring. Harry was totally fine if he was to die right then. He took back his hand and folded them on his lap, his ears burning and his eyes unsure of where to look.

Captain Tommo held his hands in the air. “But hey, it’s none of my business. Just like ours isn’t yours so if I were you I’d quit with all the questions. Some people around here don’t appreciate others snooping into what they don’t need to know.”

Harry wholeheartedly agreed. He needed to stop asking questions. It would get him in trouble.

“Anyways”, he deflected, the strange intimacy broken, “as I was saying. My first mate Liam will bring your around tomorrow, assign you things to do, explain how things work here, kitchen, sleep arrangements, things like that. As of right now though we have no spare hammocks in the main sleeping quarter so you’ll be staying with the girls.”

“Girls?” Harry blurted, not attempting to hide his surprise. “I wasn’t aware of any girl crew members?”

“Yeah I didn’t see them either. Likely avoiding all the heavy lifting and counting how much money they’ve scammed out of old drunken fools tonight.” Tommo propped his elbow up on the arm of his chair, “Why, do you have a problem with girls being apart of my crew? I mean I knew you posh people were stuck up but c’mon.”

Harry had grown up around other young lords. He had seen the way they talked about women and he hated it. He hated that they got away with it because people were too afraid to reprimand them. He hated the way they treated them like objects and bets to play with. He vowed he would never treat them like such. Only with space and respect. He had had an older sister at one point afterall. He hoped in a small way it did her proud.

“Absolutely not, as long as its their decision, but it would be downright disrespectful for me to encroach.”

“I don’t see the problem, it’s not like your interested anyways are you?”

Harry gaped, the captain’s gall shocking him yet again as he watched with a dancing eyes. Nobody had ever blatantly asked him his preferences before. No, not asked, completely presumed. He also wished he would stop _looking_ at him like that. Like he had the upper hand in some grand scheme Harry hadn’t been let in on.

He crossed his arms briskly and turned his head. “What was that you said about people minding their own business?”

He was worried he overstepped with that comment, but the pirate seemed unbothered. He was more than happy when the captain said no more about the subject. “Listen love, you either stay with the girls and their spare hammock or you can sleep on the floor and get eaten by rats. It’s your choice.”

Harry huffed. The idea of being mawled by rodents in the middle of the night didn't sound all that appealing either.

The pirate poised himself, leaning forward. Oh no. “Or I suppose I can make an exception and you can sleep with me”, he winked.

Nope. Not that either.

Harry jumped out of the chair and smoothed his trousers down quickly, giving his hands something to do. “How would one find their way to the girl’s quarters?”

The smirk was still toying with him on the captain’s lips. Harry wished he could slap him. “I told Zayn to wait outside, he’ll take you there.”

“Excellent”, Harry said flatly making his move out of the office, acutely aware of the captain’s eyes on his back as he exited. He took a deep breath to clear his head and set his body back to that of a functioning human being. Being in the captain’s presence was like a full blown exercise regime. His heart was thumping, his hands were clammy and he felt hot and fidgety all over. 

Maybe he was under a spell. Or a curse more like it. When he shook the captain’s hand maybe he had sealed his faith with some evil spirit. Harry had never believed in witchcraft but that was before Captain Tommo.

He managed to climb the stairs where Zayn was sure enough, leaning against the frame, the moonlight outlining him. He was smoking a pipe of some sort, smoke billowing out of his mouth and fogging up the entryway down to the office. When he noticed Harry coming back up he took it from his mouth and muttered, “this way.”

He took him down under the ship, which was...

Interesting. 

The place was a complete mess. The maids at home would have had an aneurism on the spot if they caught a glimpse of the discarded bottles, piles of dirty clothes and broken kitchen pottery. He did his best to ignore the sack of grain that was moving. Maybe there was a draft coming somewhere. Hopefully. He really hoped there was a draft. 

He navigated the mess and caught up with Zayn, who was being yelled at as he stood in a doorway.

“What the fuck did we say about knocking!“, Harry heard as he scampered up, a shrill female voice clearly unhappy.

“I know, I know”, Zayn droned, “but you’ve got a new roommate.”

The room fell silent when Harry emerged from behind Zayn. Four girls gawked up at him, their hands freezing in motion. The captain was right, they were counting out a _lot_ of money. They were sitting criss crossed in a circle on the floor of the cabin, a pile of coins spilling from a sack between them. They were all young, around his age in leather trousers and shirts with thick belts wrapped around the middle. He could never imagine any of the ladies he knew with their silken gowns and corsets wearing such things.

He gave a weak smile and a sheepish wave as he went to introduce himself. “Hello, I’m-“

“He’s adorable!” the blonde one suddenly exclaimed which sent the whole cabin back into motion. Now all four of them had leaped up and were crowding around, asking a million questions all at once none of which he could understand. 

“Where did he come from Z?” the shorter brunette inquired, managing to be heard above everyone despite her small stature. 

“He’s a runaway rich boy. Captain says there’s no spare hammocks down with the rest of the lads.”

She threw her arm around Harry’s neck and yanked him in, causing him to wobble on his feet. “Don’t worry we’ll look after him” she assured, not that Harry got the opinion Zayn cared by the way he shut the door in their face. He couldn’t help but be relieved when he was gone. Zayn put him on edge, like he was skating on a frozen lake just waiting for it to give way underneath him.

“Don’t mind him”, one of the other girls said, reassuring him with big doe eyes, “He gets grumpy spending all day in that crow’s nest of his. Give him some space and he’ll warm up to you. Just like a cat!”

Harry couldn’t hold back the silly smile as he imagined the broody boy as a sulky tabby. His eyes widened with surprise when the girl with a mass of beautiful corkscrew curls gasped and grabbed his face cheering, “He’s got dimples!”

Harry decided he liked staying with the girls. 

Their names were Perrie, Jesy, Jade and Leigh-Anne. Obviously some alcohol was partly to blame for their overwhelming coddling and cooing, but he wasn’t going to lie and say he didn't like it. It was comforting in a weird way. They were like no girls he had ever met. They cursed unabashedly, sat in whatever position they deemed comfortable and had their hair tied up in messy braids. They hadn’t a care in the world or for what the world thought of them. Harry thought it sounded like a liberating way to live. 

They had already christened him with some nicknames. He had never had a nickname before. He never really had friends to give him one. He decided the captain’s fondness for ‘curly’ didn’t count. He was slowly getting used to ‘Haz’ and ‘Hazza’ though.

They took turns in telling their stories while the evening winded down. 

Jesy had met leigh-Anne when she was kidnapped onto her ship in Barbados because of her small but valuable doctoral training. Doctors were apparently a rare commodity amongst pirates. Jesy, who held no loyalties towards her “knob head plonker of a captain”, decided to help Leigh-Anne escape. “Girls gotta stick together right?”

Leigh-Anne started bubbling into low giggle. “This is the best part now.”

Jesy’s eyes were bright with mischief. “So we got up in the middle of the right, when everyone else was asleep. We robbed the ship blind, took everything we could manage and filled a jollyboat with it. I set the steering off course in a completely different direction to the one we were traveling so they couldn’t catch up with us easily. We hopped in the boat and we were off back to shore before they ever knew what hit them.”

Leigh-anne had a proud face as she leaned back again, the excitement of the story passed, “Bumped into the Bluebird a few months after and decided to give it a shot.”

Perrie slapped the roof of her bottom bunk, “then we found this rascal about a year ago.”

Jade turned out to be the newest addition to the female powerhouse on the ship. She had been alone most of her life, her parents had died at a young age and she was surviving by the coast as a barmaid. The bar man she was working for at the time was a ‘sleeze ball’- again, direct quote. One day he trapped her behind the bar and tried to take off her skirt in the middle of the day. Jade swung around and shattered a glass across his head in self defence. Perrie had seen the whole thing go down and brought her back to the ship amidst the chaos, promising her a new life where she would be respected. She never left.

Watching the two of them together Harry could tell they were close. He couldn’t imagine something like that happening to him. It _could_ have happened to him.

Perrie was up next. She sat with her elbows on her knees, her blond tresses falling passed her bandana as she slouched on the bunkbed screwed into the wall. It was one of the few actually structured beds he had seen on board. He presumed the Captain had a bed too behind the curtain he had seen earlier.

“I’m one of the founding members of the Donny Rovers”, she grinned, taking a swig of her bottle, “met Zayn and Louis right after- whatever happened to them I guess”

“Louis?” 

“The Captain”, she corrected. “Don’t call him Louis when he’s around or he’ll have your head.”

“Noted.” 

Louis. It didn’t sound like a very pirate-y name, if there was a criteria for such pirate things. It sounded sweet and youthful on his tongue, like a summer wheat field or a lazy day by the river.

Louis.

Perrie kept going. “Me and Zayn dated on and off for a few years but then we decided to call it quits. It wasn’t working for either of us, like”, another swig, “romantically. Much better off as friends.” 

“What had happened to him and Lou-the captain?”

Perrie shrugged her shoulders. “He never said. No matter how close we are, they never ever talk about it, not to me at least. Must have been pretty fucked up whatever it was. Left Zayn proper emotionally scarred the poor pet. The captain too probably, just doesn’t show it as much. It was just the two of them who survived. Presume it’s why Z has such colossal trust issues with newbies.”

“Wow”, Harry murmured. It must have been something truly horrific to have had that amount of long term effect. The closest thing he could think of was the fire that took his mum and sister. Even though the fire was something he got nightmares about every now and then, at least he hadn’t been old enough to recall any of exact details. It had been reduced to just snippets and sounds now. Flashing oranges, crackling of splitting wood, some distant calls and screams. 

He pushed the memory away.

“So now you know all about us”, Leigh-Anne said, hands behind her head in her hammock. “What’s your story Haz?”

Harry leaned back against the wall of the cabin. “My story?”, he said with a sad sag, “I don’t even know what it is anymore.”

They were all looking back at him with confusion. He sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest, picking idly at a small hole that had been torn in his pant leg.

“Before I left, things just became so confused. My true and only friend basically told me everything I had been leading up to in my life was a lie, a coverup for some greater plan everybody else seems to know about except for me. He said some strange things, really strange things that he convinced me he couldn’t explain. Then he just gave me an address and told me to run. So I did.”

That’s all he decided to say about it. He got the impression people didn’t like talking about their pasts here, so he hoped they wouldn’t want to investigate further. When he looked up again, the girls had different expressions. A bit of pity, some understanding. Jade climbed down from the top bunk she had been lounging on and plopped herself down beside him, planting a comforting hand over his knee.

“That’s the good thing about this pirate life I suppose. It’s a chance to start over.”

Harry turned to her, appreciating her attempts to comfort him. “But what if I liked the life I had planned? Besides, I won’t be here forevermore. Only until I get to Italy and the captain gets his due payment.”

“Ah but Hazza that’s what we all say,” Perrie said, “Once you get a taste of this lifestyle it’s hard to go back.”

“How do you mean?”

“Back to rules, back to people judging every move you make.”

“Back to boring”, Jesy lamented, throwing her dagger with such swift precision it wedged into the doorframe at a near perfect ninety degree angle. The more Harry learned the more he believed the girls weren’t seperate from the boys to protect them, they were seperated to protect the boys from _them_. 

At least he was safe if Zayn tried to throw him over board in his sleep.

Eventually all the girls fell asleep one by one, Perrie and Jade sharing the the bunk while Harry, Leigh-Anne and Jesy took the hammocks. It wasn’t until the silence and darkness of nighttime settled that Harry realised just how exhausted he was. The whole thing still felt somewhat like a dream. If it wasn’t for the paint stain on his shirt he would have been inclined to believe it was all in his head. 

That instead he was at home, the oil lamp at his bedside turned on as he edited his work for Florence, doing some last minute sketches as a way to transfer the excitement of finally fulfilling his childhood dreams. He would be going with Alessandro the next morning to buy some things for the journey, new supplies and books. Everything would be going as it should be.

He wondered if his father had noticed he had gone yet. If Alessandro had been suspected in aiding his escape. If he had told Prince Tom who in turn would have sent a message to Prince Maxwell. What would it say? ‘Dear brother, your fiancé ran away at the mere thoughts of marrying you. Yours regretfully, Tom.’

Harry wished he had had time to write a note himself. Maybe a proper goodbye would have made him feel better. Like he was sure he was doing the right thing. Like he wasn’t throwing a life away for no good reason. Plenty of arranged marriages had turned out well. People learned to love eachother. Could he have done that? Learned to just accept it? 

His mind plagued him until he too drifted off into a restless sleep.

He was awake early, he always found himself to be an early riser. He blinked slowly as everything that had happened the day before came flooding back to him in a horrible realisation. He remembered where he was, why his back ached slightly from the curved sleeping position. He looked across over at the girls, all of whom were still sound asleep as the hammocks swayed with the ship. Out of the small porthole window he watched the sea moving up and down, eventually making him dizzy to the point where he craved a dose of fresh air. 

He emerged onto deck, the chill of the ocean air startling his sleepy state. They were completely surrounded by it now on all sides, the water glistening as the white sun peaked over the horizon and lit up the rolling waves. It was beautiful really. Harry hadn’t been on too many boat journeys in his life but none of them had felt like this. There was a freedom to the way the Bluebird moved. It felt like it was riding the water instead of battling against it.

It was almost ghostly. He kept walking, aware of every footstep that caused the planks to groan. He knew he was supposed to be shown around, but it was nice to have a wander himself first while everyone was still knocked out. He was still processing how quickly his surroundings had changed. He wasn’t used to a shuffling lifestyle.

He saw some movement on the upper deck where the steering wheel was mounted that pulled him from his inner dilemmas. He stretched himself onto his tippy toes and strained his neck. He hoped he could see whoever it was before they saw him. If it was Zayn he’d rather not be fixed with a calculated stare until he disappeared from his line of sight. If it was the captain he’d rather just not in general. It was too early in the morning for the captain. 

It turned out to be neither. It was another boy, packed with muscles bulging from a tank top as he gripped the wheel. His hair was cut close to his scalp yet he still had a gentle appearance. He was whistling to himself as he rolled the wheel, the ship tilting ever so slightly to the right.

Harry started walking up the steps, figuring it would do him no harm to introduce himself. Getting to know some people aboard could certainly benefit him within the next few months. The girls had been a good start and had boosted his social confidence slightly. Winning over Zayn was a work in progress. In Chester he never had opportunities to make friends his age. Not many real ones anyways.

“A fellow early bird?” He quizzed nervously. He wanted these people to like him, to not all think about him as the “runaway rich boy” as Zayn had said last night. 

He felt immediately better when a big smile greeted him. “Are you an early bird or a man who couldn’t listen to the girl’s snoring for much longer?”

Harry smiled back and put his hand out. “I find myself in a fond position compared to the idea of forty snoring men.”

The boy took his hand with ease and laughed brightly, it’s sound ringing clear in the morning air. “That’s very true.”

“Pleasure to meet you, I’m Harry.”

“Oh I know,” the boy assured, “Your the talk of the town at the moment. Name’s Liam.”

The name dawned on Harry. “Liam? Your the first mate?”

“That’s me.” 

“Well Liam, I do believe I’ve been promised a tour on your behalf.”

It was nice to walk around the ship with Liam while it was still quiet. He and the first mate made easy conversation while he showed him all the main parts of the Bluebird. He showed Harry where the galley was, a tiny kitchen and a serving area. Liam had laughed at him when Harry had asked where on earth they kept all the fresh food. Apparently there was no designated chef and the freshest meal you could get around was a slice of bread, salted fish and a stale cracker. 

Dinners were going to be very different to what he was used to.

They finished up at the mast in the ship’s centre, people beginning to get to work now as the crew awakened. Liam pointed up to the crow’s nest. Harry remembered the girls telling him that was Zayn’s domain.

“That’s our lookout point where Zayn hides away most of the time. You two met yet?”

Harry scratched the back of his head. “Wasn’t much of a meeting. I received more terrifying glares then amicable exchanges.”

Liam chuckled, “Stranger’s aren’t his forte. He didn’t like me much when I first joined the crew either, now look at us. Celebrating two years together next month.”

“Together on the ship?” Harry asked.

“Together as partners.” Liam snorted. Harry nearly choked on his own breath at the revelation. 

“Oh, I wasn’t aware! I’m terribly sorry if I offended-” 

Liam brushed him off, “Trust me, I know what he’s like more than anyone, there’s nothing to be sorry for. Just keep in mind there’s a good reason behind the way he acts. He’s got a fierce heart. It’s only because he wants to protect the ones he cares for. Don’t worry, he’ll give into your charm eventually.”

Harry gasped playfully at the compliment, “He certainly won’t if he catches his boyfriend calling me charming.”

Liam hummed with a knowing smile, “I’d be more worried about Tommo catching me than Zayn in those circumstances.”

Harry froze and straightened up a little, his voice going slightly shy, “What do you mean by that?”

Liam didn’t say anything back, just gave him a harmless wink before calling over a boy that had been running across deck.

Before Harry could agonisingly overthink what exactly Liam _had_ meant, he was snapped back into reality when there was a new face if front of him, bounding over with a cheery “alright mate?” He had brown wavy hair that stopped at the nape of his neck and a handsome, fresh face. Was everyone on this ship young and attractive?

“Harry, this is Luke, our powder-monkey.”

“Your what now?”

Luke laughed airily, “I basically run gunpowder back and forth between the cannons. It may not look like I’m doing much now but when there’s an attack I’ll be your saving grace.”

The word ‘attack’ unsettled Harry’s stomach a little and he quickly looked around into the open ocean. It looked like they were alone, for now.

“Does that eh- happen often? Attacks I mean, like, cannons and the such?” 

The first mate hissed between his teeth as he thought. “Depends, could have a couple months with nothing or have five seperate attacks in a week.”

Liam, noticing the blank facade of worry raking over Harry’s face, clapped him on the back reassuringly. “But don’t think about that right now. Right now we need to find you a job!”

“I really am unsure as to what I could be good at”, Harry admitted, “none of these things sound like I have the skills required.”

“Everyone thinks that on their first few days”, Luke assured with a hand on his shoulder, “then you eventually settle in. Your bound to find something your decent at.”

He didn’t.

Over his first week, Harry had dipped his toes into everything imaginable, none of which proving successful. He spent some time with the cooper and nearly nailed a barrel to his thigh as he constructed. He tried to learn some basic navigation skills with wacky contraptions you track the stars with and almost blinded himself looking straight into the sun. He hadn’t even gone near the master gunner. He was hopeless at everything Liam made him try out. Most nights he would find his way back in the girl’s cabin, alone and dejected. 

It was the evenings, when the crew would gather in the kitchen for food and drink was when Harry felt the loneliest. Liam, Luke and the girls would always invite him down and nobody had ever explicitly said he couldn’t join them, but he felt out of place regardless. They were like a family. He didn’t know how to act in a real family.

Harry was grateful that Alessandro had known him as well as he did, enough to include a journal, some reading material, a fountain pen and some ink. He had found it buried under the rest of the clothes in his case. He would have gone crazy if he hadn’t had somewhere to put his thoughts and his fears. A companion to confide in. He had never kept a diary before, he didn’t need one when he had Alessandro to give him advice and comfort him in his darkest moments.

Now though things were different. The girls had asked him on his first night what his story was, so he decided he was going to write it all down. If he couldn’t tell anyone, at least he could have it for himself. ‘The adventures of Harry who had no idea what he was doing’. Maybe he would publish it one day. 

He could hear two of the girls laughing outside the door, the evening alcohol the Donny Rovers so readily indulged in every night taking its effect. He didn’t mind too much though. They’d come stumbling back in and brighten his awful day with their jolliness before going to sleep quietly soon after.

“How’s our favourite recluse!” Perrie announced as she burst through the door with a sloppy kick. 

“He’s quite alright”, he grinned, watching as Jade followed behind her and they sat on the bed. 

“Haz is off spilling all his deep and dearest thoughts Pez,” Jade heaved off her second boot with an almighty tug, “to a piece of paper and expects it to answer. And we are the crazy ones!”

Harry giggled to himself. When she put it like that it did sound rather silly, but whatever helped him process this whole ordeal he was a fan of. He folded it closed and perched himself on the bottom bunk as Jade lugged herself into her respected bunk above him. “I’m sure I'm not to only one on this ship with a diary, even if those sturdy seamen would never admit it.”

Perrie kicked her legs up, her feet landing ungracefully in Harrys lap. “If any of them could write, maybe.”

Harry’s tilted his head. “Nobody on this boat can write?”

“You’d be lucky to find someone who had ever picked up a pen or a book in their life, let alone know what to do with them”, she replied nonchalantly. Harry was in shock. He couldn’t picture his life without books, without writing. Without a Shakespeare sonnet or an empty page to fill to ones heart’s desires. These people were missing out on a whole other world and they didn’t even know.

“Not even the captain?” He furthered, still exasperated.

“Not even Tommo”, Perrie confirmed, “We can’t all be clever like you Haz.” 

“Don't degrade yourself like so”, he said, suddenly feeling guilty for his reaction. He was lucky to have grown up with such a wonderful education. Evidently most people never got that chance. “You are capable of things I could never do, I'm practically loose weight on this ship.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something you can do”, Jade called down, “If not you’ll make lovely fish bait.” She tapped his head before rolling over and tucking the cloth she called a quilt up to her chin. Within a few minutes of Harry’s silent thinking the two of them were breathing softly, deep in blissful sleep. 

“Something I can do”, he mumbled to himself while carefully removing Perrie’s legs from his lap. If there was nothing he was capable of learning on the ship as it was, he would have to make use of what he knew already. A little unconventional for a pirate ship perhaps, but nothing Harry ever did was conventional. 

~+~

“I dont trust him.”

“You don’t trust anyone Zayn”, Louis replied, keeping his attention on the map unfolded in front of him. They would hopefully reach Ireland by this evening and from there they could set the course straight for Genoa. He couldn’t believe he was going back to Italy. He hadn’t been to Italy in years. Probably because the last time he was there the boat was pelted with canons by the Italian armada on their way out.

Not the nicest parting memory.

“This whole thing... I dont like it”, Zayn continued, fidgeting up and down Louis office. “He just appears with this crazy story of riches just sitting across the sea that he himself has never seen, and never mentions anything about where he came from or why he left? Is that not suspicious to you?”

Louis sighed and sat back from the map. He knew when Zayn got like this there was no stopping him and it was better to let him run his course. It always started as a small niggling worry that slowly grew into this huge conspiracy until he’s convinced himself something is going on. Louis didn’t blame him. The life of piracy was like a game of cards. Full of unknowns, hidden tactics and bluffers. It was part of what made it so eventful. 

“Why does he want to be so secretive about things? You said yourself you spotted rope burn on his hands right? He ran away from something, somebody.” His voice got lower. “What if we’ve got ourselves involved in something here we don’t understand.” 

Louis looked at him with a deadpan expression. “Are you saying we shouldn’t have him on board because he could be a criminal? Cuz if so you may want to look around.”

Zayn shot Louis a look, but didn’t say anything more on that point. Instead another bright idea came to his mind. 

“What if he’s not running at all? What if this is all a setup? What if he’s an inside man for someone. Think of how many people we’ve pissed off over the years Lou, think about all the people who want us dead!”

Louis scoffed but the other lad peered back at him, deadly serious.

“Zayn you have got to be joking”, Louis replied, half laughing, “Look at the kid.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I have. I’ve noticed the way _you_ look at him too.”

Louis was a taken aback by that. What the hell was Zayn trying to say? That if Harry wasn’t half as pretty he wouldn’t have agreed to his deal? That he normally would be much stricter and less accommodating to newcomers, especially posh ones? That he ignores when Harry mutters a sarcastic comment instead of threatening him with the plank because he accidentally finds it incredibly endearing?

Okay maybe it was a little true but Zayn didn’t know that.

“This is exactly what happened in the Caribbean-“

“That is not going to happen again Zayn!” Louis snapped, “Not while I’m captain. If you don’t like the decisions I’m making or believe I am doing my best to keep my crew safe then you can go find another ship!”

They both knew it was an empty threat, but Zayn still looked hurt at the suggestion as he fell silent. Louis’ face softened as he went around his desk and stood in front of his best friend. “Look. We need that easy money Zayn. Every navy in Europe is on extremely high alert right now. We need to lay low for awhile until everything calms down a bit. It’s all about timing.”

“I get that Louis but-“

There was a knock at the door. Whoever it was didn't give Louis a chance to send them away before they floated in anyway.

Speak of the devil. 

Harry was in fresher clothes to the ones he was wearing at the start of the week. A blindingly white blouse with a lace up front was lazily tied up in a crisscross over his chest. It was a loose fit on him, his collarbones peaking out as it sagged downwards. He pulled his eyes away before it became too obvious. Especially with Zayn right beside him, _‘I notice the way you look at him’_ sitting in the back of his mind.

His hair, his ridiculous hair, was curlier than ever as it hung below his jaw, the salty air bringing it to life even further. It was the first thing he had noticed about him, hence ‘curly’ became his simple yet entertaining way of irritating the younger boy. It helped that it didn’t take much to fluster him. He was a very flusterable person.

It really was ridiculous.

“I do hope I’m not interrupting”, he said flatly, clearly aware he was interrupting. Even his refined accent couldn’t hide his attitude very well.

“Actually-“

“No” Louis jumped in, seeing Zayn scowl at him from the corner of his eye. “We were just finished, right Zayn?”

Zayn’s jaw tensed and he didn’t answer. He stormed past Harry and out of the office, both of them flinching as the door slammed. They stood in the wake of him for a second, waiting for the tension to fizzle away. He certainly had his moments. He’d talk with him later.

“I presume you want something?” Louis urged, not nearly harshly as he should for someone who had just swanned in into his office unannounced. Maybe Zayn had a point.

“Right”, Harry blurted, “As I’m sure you”re aware I’m struggling to find an area of expertise you could say”

From what Louis had heard over the course of the week, that was a devastating understatement. “Yes Liam told me your crap at practically everything. Nearly blew up the ship with Luke yesterday I heard?”

Harry tried to hold back a wince. Louis wasn’t even surprised when Liam told him how the younger lad had spilt a whole pot of gunpowder all over the cannon deck during test fires. Not after he heard about the barrel incident. 

“I should let you know I was never renowned for my grace, captain.”

Louis didn’t doubt that one bit. He took a glance down at Harry’s legs, running his eyes along them as he posed by the doorway. They were perfectly nice legs, they were just long. A nice long though. Like a baby deer rather than a crooked stork. He liked them.

“It’s true that I’m struggling to find a traditional part for me to play”, Harry continued, moving hastily forward when he noticed Louis ogling, “but I do believe I’ve come to you with a solution that would be mutually beneficial and appeal to my strengths while also adding value as a passenger of your ship.”

Louis felt like he could laugh everytime the boy talked. Did he have to be so thorough about how he said things? Did every word have to be so neatly arranged? Just once he wanted to hear a fowl term fall from his lips. Maybe they physically wouldn’t allow it. They were rosy with a gentle plump, not the type of lips built for cursing to the high heavens.

“Well let me hear this remarkable idea nobody else has thought of until now” he said, mildly curious.

He watched him take a nervous breath, “I’ve been informed that your crew is entirely illiterate.”

Whatever it was he had thought Harry was going to say, it certainly wasn’t that. “Of course they are, what do you think this is? Some sort of crackpot grammer school?”

Harry pulled out the office chair in front of him, growing a bit more excited. “Well, I can teach them.” 

His words gushed out quickly from there. “I will play you for no fool by pretending I have some sort of qualification in the field but I’ve read a broad range of literature in my time and wrote many a poem and I think-“

“Woah woah woah, let me hold your horses there Curly”, he halted, a funny feeling sparking deep in his chest when Harry’s face dropped. He shook it off promptly. “Why the hell would I care if my crew could read and write. We’ve gotten by perfectly fine as we are.”

“It’s an invaluable skill that would change the standard and the level of efficiency at which your ship could perform. For example you could write out schedules and accounts to keep track of all this....”, Harry gestured around him.

“Treasure?” Louis provided.

“I was going to say illegally sourced possessions but treasure works too.” 

Harry made his way over to a wall full of Louis’ wanted posters. It was a whimsical collection he had started once he began to gain notoriety. Now there were about fifty different versions all taped and pinned over eachother. Some people collected stamps, others coins. He collected international wanted posters of himself. Each to their own.

He plucked one off the wall. “I’m sure you must have been curious about what one of these has said once or twice?”

“I like what they did with that one. Perfectly captured my good looks don’t you think?”

Harry examined it briefly. “Well in the fine print here it says the illustration is not entirely accurate and shouldn’t be taken as an exact likeness. You would know that if you could read.”

Cheeky. Normally Louis never had to deal with sassy back chat from those around him. None of his crew, with the exception of those close to him, would ever put themselves on the line like Harry does. Risk the dire consequences of disrespecting their ruthless captain. He was probably partly to blame himself. He hadn’t exactly given Harry much reason to fear him, apart from that measly attempt on the first night which lead to a heated palm reading session. For some reason, the eighteen year old didn’t tickle his temper like most people did. 

“I thought rich kids were supposed to be all proper and polite?” he teased, finger resting on the corner of his mouth.

“I can be polite. I can be extra polite if you let me hold a class”, Harry’s green eyes lit up with a glittering hopefullness as he clutched the poster absentmindedly, “Just thirty minutes in the afternoons, you wouldn’t even notice who’s gone.”

Louis rubbed his chin. He didn’t really care if his crew could write or not. Most would have no interest in learning now anyways. A lot of them had never been to school even as children. Others had to drop out early like he had to to take care of their families.

“I doubt anyone would want to go.”

“I’d like to have the chance to find out.”

He had a feeling Harry was going to have an excuse for everything he was going to say.

“I don’t have any sort of writing materials on board.”

“I’m sure I can make it work.”

“Are you always this stubborn?”

“It’s a common theme, yes.”

Harry wasn’t giving up. Harry wasn’t going to take no for an answer and Harry was looking at Louis like this decision was the most important thing in the world to him. His quiet desperation was incredibly loud as he jittered in front of him, awaiting a verdict. 

Louis sighed. What harm could it do?

“Fine, have your class I suppose. At least it will keep _you_ out of trouble and keep _my_ ship afloat .

A smile blossomed on the boy’s face. A genuine, authentic smile that made Louis hold his breath . It was so real, the likes of which hadn’t been sent in his direction in longer than he could remember. Who was the last person to look at him like that, one of his sisters maybe? It had been a long time since he’d seen his sisters. 

Harry was alight. “Thank you. I mean it, thank you!”

Gratitude made Louis uncomfortable. People didn’t thank pirates. Pirates didn’t help people or do good things. 

“We will be docking in Ireland this evening and will be there for a few days while our boatswain makes repairs to the ship”, he differed, going back to his map, “after that you can have your _one_ class a day.”

Harry practically bounded out of his seat, “I promise it will prove useful.”

Louis waved him off. “Yeah, yeah now I’m a busy man so if you don’t mind”

Harry bit softly on his tugged lip, turning to him before he left. “You know your welcome to attend too Captain”

Louis snorted. “I wouldn’t place a bet on it Curly if I were you”

Him, the great Captain Tommo, go to school? Never in a million years. He had a reputation to uphold.

“I wasn’t renowned for my gambling skills either” Harry informed him while slipping out the door.

Louis shook his head. This boy was going to make the next two months very interesting indeed, for better or for worse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back for chapter two! Love to know your thoughts and criticisms. I hope you don’t hate me for how I’ve started the Zarry friendship but just trust me!! Also if Ireland wasn’t a clue for who’s coming next chapter finally then you’ll have to read to find out!
> 
> (Shhh it’s Niall)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again with a new chapter! I hope you guys enjoy this one it was really fun to write and has LOTS of Louis and Harry interaction which is always fun. I’m sorry if the story seems a little slow at the moment but I have to build character relationships and foundations first. Dont worry, Lots of action next time! <3

Harry’s first steps on stable ground in what felt like years were hesitant. He was wobbly as he descended onto the Irish shore, the lack of waves underneath him a strange sensation now. He could hear Liam chuckling behind him as he found his balance. 

“You get used to it”, he said coming up beside him. 

Ireland. Harry hadn’t been to Ireland since he was very little, when his mother would take them over in the spring for a few weeks. It was as green as ever, the tiny coastal settlement they had landed in flourishing in the summer flora. 

“Who are we collecting here again?” He asked, nearly tripping on the cobblestone plateau bordering the beach. 

“Niall, our boatswain. Basically a carpenter”, he clarified. He still wasn’t entirely familiar with sailing phrases. “He always comes home for a few weeks just to catch up with his folks, got a huge family. He’s one of the few of us with any family to come back to.”

Harry hadn’t thought about that. About their families. If some of the crew had had to leave family behind when they joined the Bluebird, cut them from their lives never to be seen again. Parents, siblings, childhood friends. Maybe they were families like Harry’s. Broken and empty. He didn’t blame them in that case.

“How did he end up on the Bluebird?”

“Pirates don’t like the British government, neither do the Irish mostly. The British has taken away a lot of land and jobs from the native Irish, like his brother who was a farm hand nearer to the capital. He needed some place where he could make money under the radar. What better place than a pirate ship?” 

Harry had noticed a theme amongst the crew of the Bluebird. Nobody was forced to work like slaves, kidnapped or held against their will. It wasn’t strife with violence, abuse or injustice. It wasn’t like any pirate ship he had ever read about or heard about through hushed whispers amongst his peers. It wasn’t like the scary stories maids told disobedient children so they would behave. Everybody aboard the Bluebird wanted to be there. The Bluebird was home. A sanctuary for the lost, the weary and the wanderers. Was he one of them? Was he lost, weary or a wanderer?

For now he was undecided. 

The Captain led them up a stoned stairway. As they climbed, the crew’s boots colled heavier and heavier with the rock as it became a greater struggle. They reached a peak after ten minutes of trudging, the girls heaving eachother up behind Harry.

“Jesus Christ I feel like I just walked up a cliff”, Jade announced, breathless as she doubled over with her hands on her knees.

Perrie patted her back while she recovered. “Maybe because we just walked up a cliff.”

Harry looked around from their elevation to find Perrie was right. They had reached the top of the steely cliffs that had greeted them when they first approached the island. The view was incredible, the ocean expanding endlessly in a seaweed green colour, as if some of Ireland had leaked into the water itself.

A large stone house was a tucked in a good hundred yards from the cliff edge, some farm animals surrounding it unobtrusively. Someone was leaning against the wall by the gate, a huge toothy grin plastered across his face. He had a boyish, youthful appearance with sandy tresses and sparkling blue eyes, almost an embodiment of the beach below them.

“Well would you look what’s washed up at the door”, he joked with a jolly accent as the captain approached him. 

“If only, then we wouldn’t have had to trek up those bloody steps”, the captain grinned crashing into a tight hug. Harry was a little surprised, he had never seen the captain so affectionate as he pulled back, his eyes crinkling. Then again looking at the Irish lads face, he looked hard not to love. Liam followed with a second hug, “How are you Nialler?”

“I’m grand, much better now that you guys are here though. Was worried there for a second that the navy had picked ye off coming over Donegal.”

Zayn sidled up beside Liam and Harry was even more surprised when he saw Zayn with a bright expression. He presumed he had this permanent smolder with a bit of scowl thrown in every now and then. Extra scowl added when Harry came into his line of vision. “Have no faith in my look out skills Horan?”

“Thought you might be too busy looking at your reflection in the water”, Niall said putting his hands on his hips and squinting his eyes off into the distance. Zayn slapped the Irish lad on the arm before wrestling him into a hug too.

“Now that you say it, Z _is_ a little jealous he’s got more competition for pretty boy of the month”, the captain added, his head turning to Harry leading everyone’s attention to him. 

“Who’s this?” Niall questioned, glancing between him and the captain.

“I’m Harry” he smiled politely and walked forward, shocked when the boy took his arm but instead of shaking it, pulled him in for an embrace too. It was fleeting and friendly, but nice. Really nice. Over the boys shoulder Harry could see the captain watching them both, his expression unclear as his hand fiddled with the holster of his sword.

“Harry here has set us on a detour to Italy.”

Niall practically squealed. “Bellissimo, I love Italian food!”

They were interrupted by a woman rattling a tin pan from the door of the house, her hair pinned up and a muddied apron sitting haphazardly around her waist. “Would ye lot get inside, the food’s going cold!” She hollered with a fervent wave.

“Lovely to see you again too Mrs. Horan!” The captain yelled back.

The rest of the crew and Niall reunited inside, where a huge spread of food was laid out along a table the size of a whale. Harry hadn’t seen near decent food in over a week. By the way the Donny Rovers were already savaging the meatloafs and the steaming vegetables, they had been knawing on crackers a lot longer than Harry. 

He found himself a little lost in all the celebration around him. It often happened. Upper class people didn’t extend themselves to you unless they wanted something. They didn’t build friendships unless they could use your allegiance for their own benefit. Harry never played the game, therefore he was left to ponder on the sidelines 

That’s why he nearly jumped out of his skin when someone tapped his shoulder. It was the woman who had beckoned them in from the door, Niall’s mother he remembered. They had the same bright eyes and ruddy cheeks.

“Here you go dear”, she offered, holding out a tray of glasses, “some pure Irish ale. Get it into ye quick before the night gets going and Uncle Bobby gets dancing. Trust me you don’t want to be sober for that!”

“Oh I’m perfectly alright thank you”, he mannerly declined, careful not to offend the fiesty little Irish lady. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

She put her hand over her heart like he had spat at her feet, “You can’t come to Ireland and not have a drink! What kind of host would that make me?”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He had never really drank alcohol before. A few stolen champagne sips when he was younger while the adults had their backs turned but nothing more.

“A wonderful one. You’ve been far too accommodating already having all this food made up for us.”

She squeezed his forearm and tutted, “And thank god I did, you’re skin and bone! Looks like you could do with some good food! I’ll grab ye some bacon and mash and-“

“Ma, what have I told you about force feeding the guests”, Niall said, chuckling to himself as he strode over to the pair. Harry held in a sigh of relief as Niall saved him from her mothering instincts by taking the glass of drink on his behalf, “if he’s hungry he’ll get something, don’t worry.”

She didn’t seem the least bit satisfied, but didn’t press anymore. “There’s pudding on the back table” she winked before reluctantly scurrying off, her frazzled honeycomb hair falling from her bun as she rushed around taking care of everyone else. He was sure there would be some crew memebers more than happy to accept all her food and drink.

“You know if Tommo told me he was bringing a friend I would have cleaned up nicer”, Niall turned to him, the corner of his mouth quirked. 

Friends. Were he and the captain friends? Harry didn’t have much extensive experience to go on, but it didn’t feel like they were. He was definitely grateful the captain agreed to let him hold the english lessons, he wasn’t sure how he would maintain his sanity otherwise. Did that make them friends though?

He didn’t know what came over him when he invited the captain to attend. Maybe he knew he would refuse and was just exchanging habitual politeness, or did a part of him want him to come? Was a part of him growing to enjoy how uncertain and on edge he felt around the captain?

His life had been predictable for so long. Someone like Captain Tommo was an enigma in comparison.

“Don’t fret, I wouldn’t call us friends exactly”, Harry assured him, now certain that wasn't the right label. Maybe they didn’t have to have a label on it. Yet.

“Oh, I see” Niall said, wiggling his eyebrows with an impish smirk. 

“No! Not like that either”, Harry rectified a little too quickly, causing Niall to cackle. “We are more like acquaintances. Business partners if anything.”

None of those sounded right either.

He nudged Harry’s elbow, “Well, You know what they say about mixing business and pleasure”

“I believe the rule explicitly states not to do it.” 

“Ah but sure where’s the fun in that?” Niall argued jokingly.

“Besides I don’t think I’m his type.” Harry wasn’t sure about that one but anything to drop the topic. The captain commented on him a lot, bared no shame in flirting and gawking, but it was all surface level. A rise to embarrass the young and naive posh boy. He was just like the prince. He didn’t know anything about him except for what he looked like.

Harry pushed down the thought that it was because he wouldn’t let him anyway.

Niall gave him a look that made Harry feel like a child who’d been caught out on a lie, “I’ve known Louis a long time, trust me, your his type.”

Harry suddenly felt the urge to drink. He snatched the glass from Niall’s hand and knocked back the frothy brown liquid. It’s bitter unfamiliar taste made him want to gag, but he restrained, “Well, maybe he’s not mine...”

Niall peered at Harry curiously, “What’s your type then?”

Harry shrugged and lifted the drink to his lips again, “Tall.”

Niall exploded into a scream of laughter and threw his head back, a small grin forming on Harry’s lips around the brim of his glass.

“Harold”, he said, slinging a loose arm around his shoulders, “I’ve a feeling me and you are going to get along swimmingly.”

Niall turned out to be right. Once everybody had sat down and he ended up beside the Irish lad, he was certain he had never met anyone like him. From the short time he had spent with him, he had gathered that he laughed a lot. It was a loud, soulful laugh that spread like a ray of sunshine through anyone around. He had a contagious energy that got everyone around involved in whatever story he was telling.

He was just about to get into Liam’s irrational childhood fear of spoons when they were interrupted by a call from the other side of the room.

“Nialler, give us a song already”, Captain Tommo shouted from the other end of the table, “it’s half the reason we keep you around.”

The men started egging him on, banging their fist off the table and chanting. A guitar emerged from seemingly thin air and was slung it around his neck as they got rowdier. He was hustled up to the top of the room despite his humble protests, eventually giving up and waving the volume down.

“Alright, alright if you insist” he agreed happily, and then suddenly the whole room went silent as he plucked away at the opening melody. Harry looked around gently, fearful his moving eyes would disrupt the stillness. They even put down the forks shovelling food into their mouths. He had never seen anything like this before. People just wanting to appreciate and listen to music. They had music at the balls and networking events he was forced to attend, but not like this. That was background violin instrumental for political stability. 

The crew had never been so mellow as when Niall began to sing.

“I fell asleep down by the stream  
And there I had the strangest dream  
And down by Brennan's Glenn there grows  
A briar and a rose  
There's a tree in the forest and I don't know where  
I built a nest out of your hair  
And climbing up into the air  
A briar and a rose.”  


A distant sound started to blossom in the back of Harry’s memory. Niall faded away as the memory took over and merged with the reality in the room. A voice. Another voice singing, a woman. Next thing he knew he was plunged. 

_“A nest out of hair?” Gemma said, her noise wrinkled with disgust, “That’s not very romantic”, she huffed. The woman laughed softly, tucking her children tighter into the bed. Her eyes were kind and glowing with love for the two tiny faces blinking back at her, jet black hair falling over her shoulder._

_He tugged the duvet up to his chin. “Briar’s are spiky and they hurt people, how could something lovely like a rose fall in love with a briar?”_

_“Well”, his mum began, “sometimes things that appear to be opposites can actually compliment eachother. The briar protects the rose, while the rose helps soften the briar. One completes the other.”_

_The children thought about that for a minute, before Gemma sat up and threw her arms out, “but really, a nest of hair?!”_

Then it was gone. It disappeared, wiped from behind his eyes like it had never existed in the first place. But it had existed. It had to, because he remembered the rest of the song. He knew the words. He wasn't sure what compelled him, but suddenly his mouth started moving faster than his mind. He joined in with Niall.

“Well I don't know how long it's been  
But I was born in Brennan's Glenn  
And near the end of spring there grows  
The briar and the rose.”

People were staring at him, but nobody said anything. Their expressions fell away as he concentrated on the words falling from his lips instead, each one unlocking a new feeling from his past like a magic incantation. Niall didn’t stop him either. In fact he encouraged him as they fell into harmony.

“And when I'm buried in my grave  
Tell me so I may know  
Your tears may fall to make love grow  
The Briar and the rose.”

Harry was breathless as the crew exploded into hoots and hollers, Niall’s mother clapping ferociously in the corner. The overwhelming sense of approval from the room was something he had never experienced before. He was exhilarated as Niall came running down to him, the room still bustling after the surprise performance.

“Tell me how does a British boy know an Irish folk song?” He exulted, like he couldn’t believe what just happened either.

“My mother used to sing it to me”, he replied, an unstoppable smile on his face. It had been a long time since he had had such a clear memory resurface. It felt like a sign, like he was going in the right direction. The reassurance he needed after doubting himself on whether he was doing the right thing.

“Your mother is a woman of culture!” Niall said and Harry smiled to himself. He didn’t correct Niall. It was nice to hear someone talk about her as if she were still around. 

Niall stepped up onto the table, yanking Harry up with him by his hand before he could protest. He gave his guitar one strong strum and then said, “let’s bring the energy up a bit shall we?”

There was another round of cheers, shortly followed by another round of beers as a band began to play. The energy was electric and in all the chaos and dancing, Harry wasn’t even aware of the glasses he was finishing off as the evening went on. He found himself not caring either. Somehow, so far away from what he knew and where he was from, he felt himself.

~+~

Harry was drunk.

Louis swirled his cider while he watched him dancing on the table with Niall who was banging out some dodgy chords on the guitar. Some dodgy dance moves too. Their slowed down limbs had them stumbling happily around eachother rather than dancing, Niall slurring some incoherent songs as they did so.

Most of the crew had cleared out by now and were back at the ship, though there were a few stragglers still making the most out of their time off so to say. It had been a lighthearted evening for the crew, where they could dance and sing with real food in their stomachs and not have a worry at the back of their minds wondering if something was going to go wrong. Some of the maids were still about, taking in empty plates and tankards to the kitchen. Niall’s mum came around and pulled out one of the empty chairs.

“Ive the room ready for you, just sent Zayn and Liam down to their’s”, she said, sounding exhausted. It was probably the first time she had sat all day.

“You’re a blessing Mrs. Horan. Haven’t had a proper nights sleep in months.”

Whenever they visited Niall’s family, Liam, Zayn and himself always stayed for the night in the house. It worked both ways. The rest of the crew got a break from their captain and first mate bossing them around, and they got alone time. Well, Louis got alone time. He had a feeling Liam and Zayn spent their time differently.

“How many times have I told ye to call me Maura” she chastised lightly, “Least I can do for ye all, looking after my Niall and bringing him home to me.”

“It’s sort of my job as captain to keep him out of trouble.”

She hummed, “Its not your job to be his friend though.”

That may have been true, but it was hard not to be Niall’s friend. Everyone was Niall’s friend, whether they set out to be or not.

“Harry’s a lovely boy isn’t he?”

Harry. Everything was Harry lately. When did the world start to revolve around Harry? More importantly when did his world start to revolve around Harry?

He sat his chin on his hand, “When he wants to be.”

Maura chuckled, “He’s well able to handle you then? That should do you no harm to be put in your place sometimes”, she joked, giving him the side eye. “You’ve spent an awful long time looking at him from over here.”

Louis shrugged casually, waiting for a valid reason to land on his tongue. “Just sitting back and relaxing while I can.”

That was a perfectly acceptable reason. Relaxing tended to lead to observation. Observation almost always led to noticing things. Like how comfortable and at ease the younger boy was with everyone else but him. How touchy and expressive he was when talking to people who weren’t named Louis. It also would have been impossible to ignore everytime he barked out that incredibly obnoxiously laugh. He’d never heard him laugh before today. He laughed with the girls, Luke and Liam and Niall too clearly. He never laughed around him.

So he was just relaxing.

Maura put a hand on his knee, “As the saying goes, “An áit a bhuil do chroí is ann a thabharfas do chosa thú.”

“What does that mean?” Niall had taught him minimal Gaelic in all the years he’d known him.

“Your feet will take you where your heart wants to go.”

Louis let the words sink in, then immediately wanted to dig them back out again. Nope. Poetic phrases involving hearts were never something useful to hold onto. He set his cider down on the table.

“Well, right now it looks like Harry’s feet want to take him crashing off that table so if you’ll excuse me. Thank you again for all this Maura.”

He got there just in time too. Harry was teatering along the edge of the dining table for the last five minutes during he and Maura’s conversation. With a final frolicking misstep he was falling backwards, luckily for him landing in Louis chest.

He looked around confused as to why he wasn’t on the floor before noticing the pair of hands keeping him upright around his waist.

“Woah, hands to yourself you perv” he grumbled, despite settling closer into him.

Louis looked down at him as he sagged in his arms, Harry gazing back through his lashes. “Is that the thanks I get for saving you from breaking your neck?”

“No, this is!” Harry chirped, before jumping up and planting a chaste peck on Louis cheek. It was brief. If he blinked he would have missed it, but the spot where Harry’s lips brushed started sizzling like oil on a pan. It was burning, as if he had been dowsed in holy water.

Harry had kissed him. He was definitely drunk.

“How many times have you drank alcohol Harry?”

The boys head rolled as he thought, “Once. I think.”

“When was that?”

He tapped his chin, “What time is it now?”

Louis didn't know how that was relevant but checked his pocket watch anyway. “Two a.m”

Harry started calculating on his fingers, “then about five hours ago!”

“ _Today_ is your first time drinking alcohol?!” 

“Rich kids are supposed to be proper and polite” he repeated with a staggering imitation of Louis’ accent. Louis wouldn’t have been the slightest bit amused if it had been anyone else, but for some reason he wanted Harry to say it again. He wanted Harry to make fun of the way he talked and then smile like he had told the greatest joke in existence. 

He was fucking drunk too apparently.

“Hey Cap, want us to take him back to boat?”

Louis turned around to see Jesy with an equally disheveled Leigh-anne around her shoulder. There was no way she would get them both down those torturous stairs in one piece. They had a hard enough time stumbling up them with clear heads. Even if she did manage the task, it was risky to leave a first timer alone and unsupervised. He subconsciously held Harry tighter at the thought of him in this state with nobody watching over him, surrounded by drunken pirates. He felt a frustrating urge to look after of him somehow, but decided it wasn’t in a sweet and consideration way. He was more like a minimum wage nanny. 

“You go ahead” he said, hoisting Harry up straighter so that he was standing- sort of. He was heavier than he looked. ”I’ll find somehwere to put him here.”

Jesy gave Louis a stern look but nodded, walking out into the cool midnight air with leigh-anne. The girls had grown very protective over the boy in his arms, but Jesy knew he would be far safer with Louis than back on the Bluebird. Louis knew she trusted her captain enough to know he was in good hands. She also knew he was slightly afraid of her.

Louis was so glad Harry was the happy, go-with-the-flow kind of drunk. If he had been the moody and pain-in-the-ass drunk there was no way he would have been able to convince him quietly into this arrangement. Harry had enough attitude as it was while running on fresh air. Though it would have been worse if he was a curl-up-and-cry drunk. Overwhelming emotions made Louis anxious. 

He pushed the door open to the room Maura had directed him to and released his hold on Harry’s arm. Luckily the boy didn’t immediately collapse onto the floor without the support. Louis saw that Maura had brought his hat and coat up already for him, his coat hanging on clothes rack and his hat on his bedside locker. That woman truly was a blessing.

Harry waddled up to the locker, stubbing his toe straight into the corner but he didn’t even notice. He picked up the hat and plopped it on his head, spinning back around with theatrical flair.

Louis froze, unsure of what to do with himself as he was confronted with the sight of Harry standing there, his halo of curls falling loose with a dopy joyfulness plastered across his face, parading around in _his_ hat. In _his_ clothes, in _his_ room, with glassy green eyes shimmering with a playfulness that made Louis’ insides flip. The two deep dimples that sweetened his cheeks as he giggled made the whole thing even more unimaginable.

He was a dream and his worst nightmare all in one.

“How’d we end up in Louis’ room?”

He blinked quickly, the syrupy slowness of the other boys voice grounding him. More specifically that voice saying his name. He’d never heard his name said like that, but he was interested to know where he found out about it.

“Louis?”

“Yeah Perrie told me that’s his real name. She also told me not to call him his real name when he’s around so don’t tell him I said that.”

With all the alcohol fogging his brain, Harry didn’t recognise him. That made him feel better. Tomorrow they could go back to normal, the way things had been going before today. Harry would hate him from a distance again and he could go back to pretending he didn't care about that fact. As it should be. 

“Your secrets safe with me” he replied, relaxing into his anonymity.

Harry twisted on his heel for a moment, narrowing his eyes at Louis. “How can I be sure? Are you an angel?”

Louis’ brows shot up. He’d been called many things in his life, he kept a list for the best ones. Tommo the tease was a personal favourite, but he could safely say he had never been called an angel. “What makes you say that?”

“Well”, Harry began, drawling out the word, “angels are very trustworthy I imagine. Good at keeping secrets, and look! You practically are my guardian angel, you saved me when I fell off the table earlier, and you got me safely to a nice bed. This is a nice bed”, Harry sat at the foot of it, his awkward legs swinging over the edge while he patted the mattress and took in the room.

“Wait where am I?”

“Don't worry about that right now love,”, Louis said, walking over to him and plucking the hat from his head. Harry pouted at the removal of his costume and Louis really tried his hardest not to find it cute. It wasn’t cute. Cute? What the fuck? Pirates don’t say words like cute. 

“All you need to worry about is going to sleep. That and the cracker of a headache your going to have in the morning.”

He reached for the top of the bed and pulled the covers back. It was a single bed. If he really wanted to he could fit both of them in it, but he had a feeling cranky, drink-less Harry would not enjoy that at all in the morning when he woke up. It was fine. He was well used to the floor and a pillow at this stage. An old friend from his childhood. 

“In you get, Curly” he ordered gently, getting a snort in response.

“You sound like the captain now. Curly this, Curly that. You know Luke, Luke is very nice by the way, he’s a monkey boy or something.” Harry ambled around to where Louis waiting, sighing extremely dramatically when he lay down on the sheet.

“Anyways he has curly hair too but the captain doesn't call _him_ Curly”, Harry ushered Louis down to his level and cupped his hand around his mouth, his voice lowering to a hush like he was sharing top secret information, “You know I think he does it to annoy me, but the jokes on him because I kinda like it”, He revealed through shy giggles, “Don’t tell him I said that either.”

Louis couldn’t hold back the small laugh that broke past his lips. “Okay, I won’t.”

“You promise?” Harry said, getting distracted by a lock of hair that had hung over his eyes. He gave it a cross look like it was a misbehaving child as he blew through the side of his mouth, trying to force it away from his face. He wasn't doing a very good job.

Louis reached out like it was a trained reaction, blissfully ignoring the screaming in his head telling him to pull back. By the time it registered, the curl was already gently tucked behind Harry’s ear. It was even silkier than he imagined it would be. Not that he imagined Harry’s hair between his fingers often...

 _That_ often.

“I promise”, he finally answered lowly.

“How can I be sure you’ll keep it?” Harry said, his voice a just above a whisper. 

“I’m an angel remember?”

“You’re an angel!?” Harry cried, slapping a hand over his mouth at his own volume. He slowly took it away, his eyes wide in awe, “Wow you look an awful lot like the captain.”

Louis scoffed, “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“You should.”

Harry’s expression was soft and serene, his eyelids fluttering like flower petals as he tried to stay awake. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were tinted with the same pink shade of his parted lips. His loose shirt was even looser than it had been that morning, his porcelain shoulder peaking delicately out from it now. Louis’ got lost wondering what it would feel like to kiss a trail along it, starting down in the dip of his shoulder blade all the way up to his jaw.

This was too dangerous. This wasn’t passive admiring anymore. This wasn’t a cheeky glance or harmless flirting. This was dangerous. This was dangerous.

Louis closed his eyes, trying desperately to erase the picture. “Go to sleep Harry.”

“Okay.” Harry said, but made no moves to go to sleep. He just kept staring into his soul quietly.

Louis pulled the covers up over him in a bid to hurry along the process. He wasn't sure how much longer he could last like this. 

“Okay”, Louis repeated back to him.

“Okay.”

“Stop saying okay.”

“Okay.” 

Harry was biting on the tip of his tongue, trying very hard to keep a straight face. Even hardly conscious he took joy in teasing Louis.

“Goodnight Curly” Louis said with a tone of finality getting up from the bed to blow out the flickering candlelight. 

“Goodnight angel” he heard mumbled behind him. By the time he turned around, Harry had his eyes closed and hair splayed across the pillow, little sleepy breaths causing the blanket the rise and fall. Thank god.

He crept around to grab a pillow sitting at the foot of the bed, taking extra care to make as little noise as possible. He took the woolen throw too to cover himself with. Without the heat from the candles the nighttime chill was beginning to settle in.

He made sure Harry was definitely in the bed before he lay down, made sure he hadn’t hallucinated any of what just happened. In a way he hoped he had imagined some of it. He hoped he imagined that Harry said he liked Louis’ nicknames for him. He hoped he imagined the way Harry’s emerald eyes were so innocently honest when he called him an angel.

An angel of all things.

Louis thought there would never come a day where he wished he was sober.

~+~

Harry slept well into the afternoon. 

The Bluebird had been undergoing the repairs Niall had outlined all morning so there wasn’t much Louis could be doing. His crew was busy and it was nice to have that leadership pressure off his shoulders for a while. However Louis was fidgety person. He liked to have something to do and if he wasn’t being a captain, there wasn’t much he could do other than sit in the room at the desk and think about the next adventure.

He heard a miserable groan behind him as the bed creaked. This should be fun.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty”, Louis’ sang. 

Harry clearly thought he had alone given the way he shot up in the bed with a startled yelp and flailing arms. This was quickly followed by another pained whine as he squeezed his temples. The first hangover was always the worst one.

“What happened yesterday?” he grimaced, then slammed his head back down onto the pillow pathetically.

“Niall and the Irish happened”, Louis told him, “I’m going to presume you don’t remembered anything so let me fill you in. Harry who has never drank before decides it’s a good idea to get absolutely hammered and expects someone to babysit him for the rest of the night so he doesn’t do something stupid. Sound familiar?”

Louis realised that probably sounded a little harsher than he meant when Harry eyes flitted down to his hands with a shameful silence. He briskly fixed his shirt so it was sitting more decently now and ran a hand down his hair once or twice to smooth it down. Then he froze.

“Oh God this is your room”, he said, looking around with growing distress, “We didn’t-, you and I-“ 

“Are you asking if I took advantage of you when you were completely off your head?” Louis interrupted, scoffing and shaking his head, “Lovely high opinion you have of me there Curly.”

The boy faltered, his face going from panicked to a shade of red. “I’m sorry, your right I shouldn’t have said that.”

The embarrassment and dejection in his stammered voice was like a gut-punch to Louis, which was really odd. Usually he revelled in other people’s embarrassments. It was some innate human instinct. 

“Don’t be sorry”, he backtracked. What was he doing? He never corrected himself, “You had every right to ask about your own safety. I take that sort of thing very fucking seriously. I get that what we do isn’t exactly law abiding and I’m not claiming to be a nun or anything but just so you know, I don't tolerate any form of sexual harassment. You shouldn’t have to be afraid to tell me things like that, alright?”

Harry was looking at Louis intently, almost like he was deciphering if he was being genuine or not. Eventually he nodded slowly with understanding.

Louis sighed and went to leave Harry in peace for a while to recover. He also didn’t want to let Harry feel the little twinge of hurt he was internalising at the fact that the younger boy thought, even for a second, he could do something like that to him. The logical part of Louis’ brain was telling him that obviously it would have to cross his mind, he was a pirate. Harry didn’t know where his morals lay or what he considered going too far. Pirates weren’t known for having a kind and considerate nature. 

“We’ll be departing in a few hours so get yourself together. If your going to get sick anywhere, just don’t do it on the bed. We’ve caused Maura enough of a clean up.”

He didn’t spare him a second glance. He’d spent far too much time worrying about him lately. He needed to keep himself together. Keep himself on track and on focus. He was Captain Tommo for crying out loud, there was nothing he couldn’t handle. Harry was nothing he couldn’t handle.

His ship. He could focus on his ship for a while.

The Bluebird was always a source of pride for Louis’ and he tried to have his ship in the best condition she could be in. She’d be ready to sail again soon now that the rejuvenation was nearly finished last he checked. As he walked down to the port he saw Niall sending up men into the ship with stacks of-

Books?

Niall heard him coming behind him. “Is Harry alive yet?” 

“Just about. Whats all this?” He said, gesturing to the piles of novels and blank paper, inks, and other literature related things. Louis had never seen a sight like it. Only people who grew up wealthy got to see things like that. 

“It’s from my dad”, Niall started to explain, “He got it all from the monks this morning, heard what Harry wanted to try do with the lessons and wanted to help. He wants me to do them, to learn to read and write so I can help teach them whenever I visit. He knows how to read a small bit but not well enough.

In all factuality Louis had just said yes to the whole idea to keep Harry busy and distracted so in turn, he could stay busy and undistracted by Harry. He never thought people would actually buy into it. He was surprised. He wasn’t often surprised. “Gonna be quite the educated bunch aren't we. While you were making the repairs you should have painted over “The Bluebird” and wrote “Oxford University.”

Niall rolled his eyes. “I see it as half an hour a day where I don’t have to listen to you or Liam harping on about rubbish.”

Louis leaned a hand on his hip. “Now you can listen to Harry spout some Shakespearen tragedies and romantic poetry. Lucky you.”

“Did Harry not spout you some romantic poetry during your cosy night together?” Niall asked with a smirk, earning him a sharp jab in the side. He squawked as he tried to avoid another attack.

“Jealousy does not look good on you Tommo!”

“Everything looks good on me Horan”, Louis quipped, “Are we ready to sail or not?”

“Whenever you are cap.”

“Perfect. I’ll get my stuff from my room then we can go”

A cosy night together he thought as he walked. Is that what people believed happened? Is that what it looked like? The ache at the base of his back from sleeping on the hard floor while Harry got his ‘cosy night’ in bed begged to differ. 

He reached the door to his room, still out of breathe from those goddamn stairs he’d just gone back up from the port and twisted the knob. The door didn’t open. He jiggled the knob again in the opposite direction but still it didn’t click with the sound of release. It was locked.

“Harry?”, he called, placing his ear to the door “are you in there?”

Nothing.

“Harry?”

There was a muffled reply this time, albeit a hesitate one, “Umm yes I am, why?”

“Any chance I could get into my own room?” Louis asked sarcastically, rattling the metal knob once again to add emphasis.

“I em-well not right now”

Not right now? Louis hadn’t intended his comment to be a request with a refusal option. “Why not?”

A pause. “I’m taking care of personal hygiene.”

Louis leaned against the doorframe. Personal hygiene. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone aboard his ship cared about their personal hygiene. “Which means what exactly?”

“I’m having a bath”

Louis took a sharp breath. Harry was having a bath. People usually didn’t wear clothes in the bath. Which meant Harry was naked on the other side of the door he was leaning on. Louis panicked as images of Harry’s bare shoulder and collarbones flooded his mind again.

“Did you have to do that in my room?” he splurted.

“It was the closest room to the water supply.”

He took a deep breath. “Well, are you almost finished?”

“I’m washing my hair”

Of course. His ridiculous fucking hair. He probably spent ages brushing it too, making sure every knot was straightened out. Relishing in being able to run his hands through it when it was still straight and damp.

His imagination was vividly creative today. Somebody pinch him.

“I’ve gotta get my stuff Curly so I’d get scrubbing if I were you”, he said, composing himself, “or you just let me in. You wouldn’t be the first naked body I've seen in my life.”

He had a few seconds to wonder what the fuck he’d do if Harry said yes before he answered. “I’m not particularly wanting to be the next.”

“What, you got an extra ball or something?” He teased, masking his relief, “I’m not missing out on some mystery of science am I? You’ve got me intrigued now.”

Louis was certain he heard a sarcastic, “of course you are”, followed by a long sigh. “Okay this is what I’m going to do. I’m going to unlock the door but do _not_ open it. Your going to count _out loud_ to ten before you enter so I can hear you. Clear?”

“Aye-aye captain” Louis chimed.

There was some rustling behind the door and a tension when Louis felt the handle being gripped from the other side. He wondered if Harry had grabbed a towel in case he didn’t trust him, or if he really was stark naked and dripping wet behind the wooden barrier.

“Out loud”, Harry reiterated firmly, before finally twisting and dislodging the key from the keyhole. Louis stayed true to his word and started to count, probably much louder than necessary. There was the sound of feet slapping off the stone ground and then a muted splash. By the time he got to ten, nobody was screeching at him to keep it closed so he waltzed in.

There was a trail of water at his feet leading across the room to a metal basin that was sat in the middle. Sat in that was Harry. His knees were tucked up to hide his chest, his elbows locked together around them. The rest of his body was hidden under the water shaped around him. His hair was sleeked back off his face, much longer now it was wet and flat. The candles on the walls had been moved and set up around the tub, their subtle yellow glow dancing in the water reflections and off his glossy skin.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there in the light of the doorframe staring but it must have been a while because Harry cleared his throat, rupturing the quiet.

“I do believe you had something to get captain”, he reminded him. Despite being the one entirely clothed, Louis was struck with a terrifying vulnerability. He felt his bravado crumble, his usually need to tease and provoke stuck in his throat as Harry thoughtfully studied him. 

Louis’ was the one to fluster other people, not the other way around. Captain Tommo didn’t get flustered.

“I do”, he spoke at last with a heavy tongue, averting his gaze. He rushed over to the corner where his bag was dumped, turning his back to Harry. He didn’t even check to see if everything was in it before he slung it over his shoulder. He could sense Harry’s eyes following him as he strode briskly back towards the door, like a cat. He hoped the brim of his hat was hiding the sweat on his forehead. 

He had never wanted to get further away from a naked, young, beautiful boy in his life.

Beautiful? Oh god. He thought Harry was beautiful. Not good. It was a known unspoken rule among pirates that you can’t trust beautiful things. Beautiful things were deadly.

He also had never gotten down those cobble stairs faster in his life.

Louis managed to avoid Harry until the boat was ready for departure when he tottered up onto the deck, still sluggish despite having a fresher face. He briefly glanced at him, clearly not wanting to address what had just transpired either. Perhaps he was just as confused. He spotted Niall instead.

“Never. Drinking. Again.” He moaned, his forehead landing on Niall’s shoulder. Louis looked away, even the small action seemingly bothering him now. He couldn’t let himself be this effected. He convinced himself it was the after effects from last night. 

“I think I need medical assistance Leigh-Anne” he heard behind him, followed by laughter.

“Maura packed us some fruit, we’ll squeeze some apple juice for you tonight Haz” she said, the conversation falling out of his reach as they walked away. 

‘Haz’ Louis thought to himself. Not as good as Curly. Harry liked being called Curly. As he looked out onto the sea, an unruly smile twisted his lips ever so slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for coming back to read or if you just found it, welcome and I hope you enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back :) I’m sorry these take so long to get out but they are very long chapters and I'm in school and it’s just me so I hope you understand! <3 once again I love reading and replying to feedback and I hope you enjoy. This chapter is Harry pov so the next one will be Louis :) see you then! 
> 
> Slight tw// There’s some violence in this chapter, not graphic but there is mentions of blood and injuries and knives and things like that that could freak some people out so just a quick disclaimer

Harry was starting to find that life on the Bluebird really wasn’t that bad.

Harry started his first class the next day after they left Ireland. The dining area had been given up as his classroom for the short time it was needed. A few of his amounting worries had been ironed out thanks to Niall’s father. They had enough paper and material to last them for a lifetime. He wasn’t sure how many people were going to show up to use it though, it was hard to predict. 

He wondered if maybe the captain was right. People had gone such a long time without knowing how, they may question a reason why they’d want to know in the first place. The closer it got to the scheduled time the more fidgety he became. He picked up a thin block of pages, tapping them upright on the table to align them.

His nerves spiked when the door suddenly rushed open, but he was quickly relieved when he saw Leigh-Anne and Niall bounding in arm in arm. They had told him prior they were going to attend but it still warmed his heart that they were making the effort. Niall wanted to hopefully teach his family too someday, while Leigh-Anne thought it would improve her medical duties. It was nice to feel useful for once. Harry finally felt he could do something worth while now.

They sat up the front and chatted while Harry watched other crew members hesitantly filter in. Some of the quieter men made their way inside, heads down, looking around anxiously as if they were awaiting judgement. Harry smiled warmly at them when he caught their eye to reassure them. He understood that they were probably equally as nervous as he was. The last person to come through the door was Luke, which was a nice surprise. 

Eventually the room settled down to about twelve people. Okay. He could work with that. A small class might be easier to start with, more personal. Something inside him secretly wished the number would bounce to thirteen but he dispelled that quickly. It was like he sought out disaster.

“Alright”, he began, all eyes on him now. Here goes nothing. “Firstly before we start anything I just wanted to say thank you for coming and you’re all very welcome. I know it can be scary to try something new, so I commend all your bravery. That’s the first big step. It may be difficult at times, but ultimately all I’m going to ask of you is that you try your very best and enjoy it.”

An air of tenseness was lifted, a few shoulders relaxed and worried faces softened. Niall winked at him to keep going. This confidence boosting thing worked both ways it seemed. 

Harry took in a slow calming breath and went up to his makeshift desk where he’d drawn an example of every letter. “If learning to read and write is what we are setting out to do, then I think it is only fitting that we start out with the basics, meaning our lovely English alphabet!”

What was meant to be a quick explanation of twenty six letters turned into a much more complicated matter.

“Wait so what you’re saying is”, Luke piped up, “that everything I could ever say can be arranged into those few squiggles?”

Harry paused for a second. Maybe he shouldn’t have presumed that people just knew these things. From talking with Liam and Niall, he had found out that Luke had been on and off pirate ships since he was a child. He never would have needed to know things like letter pronunciation and even what they mean in the first place.

“Yes, in most European languages. Greek is different, they have their own alphabet.”

“There’s multiple!?” he exclaimed. More confused faces sprouted throughout the room.

“There is, but we don’t need to worry about those. Let’s learn how to use our own language before learning anyone else’s”, he smiled, passing out a blank lined page to everyone. It was only when everyone went to pick up their fountain pens that Harry realised he’d have to teach them how to do that too. 

Things were progressing slower than he thought, but slow and steady won the race afterall.

He went around to each person, arranging their fingers around the pens. He tried to explain that while it may seem wildly foreign now, eventually they would pick it up and hold it without thinking about it. Not everyone was entirely convinced.

“This is impossible Haz”, Niall groaned, throwing his head into his hands.

“Nonsense”, Harry replied, patting the top of Niall’s head as he walked past him back to the front of the room, “You’re far stronger and have survived far worse than a few lines on a page. You have to give it time.”

“Yeah but I can’t stab the letter K if it won’t cooperate”, Leigh-Anne argued, rising a hum of shared opinion from the others.

Harry needed a different approach. The ways his teachers taught him weren’t going to work with these guys. He needed to breathe some inspiration and motivation into them or else they would get nowhere.

“Perhaps I rushed into this a little”, he admitted, getting some small nods in return, “So instead, I’m going to show you just what you’ll gain if you put in the work and persevere.”

He sat himself up on the table and rooted through his collection of literature, half of it from his suitcase and the other from Ireland. He fumbled through titles, weighing up his options until he found the perfect fit. 

“Aha!”, he said triumphantly, holding the novel in the air, “Robinson Crusoe. Shipwrecks, tropical islands, daring sea battles. It’s right up your alley.”

The crew looked apprehensive, but interested.

“What do we have to do?”, someone asked. 

“Nothing”, Harry replied, opening up the novel, “just relax and listen to the story.”

So Harry started to read.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been reading for when he reached the end of the first chapter. It was a rather long chapter, but a pleasant opener none the less. Nobody had interrupted or protested as he read out the beginnings of the adventure, so he took that as a good sign.

“As I stayed away a while, the remembrance of the distress I had been in wore off, and as that abated, the little motion I had been in wore off with it, till at last I quite laid aside the thoughts of it and looked out for a voyage.”

He snapped the book shut and was pleasantly startled when he lifted his eyes to see the room was packed. An exceedingly larger amount of the crew had evidently slipped their way in without him noticing while he was engrossed in his reading.

“You can’t stop there”, Niall protested with wide eyes, “what happens after that!”

“Well”, Harry sang, the crew on the edge of their seats in anticipation, “you can all find out if you come to tomorrow’s lesson!”

There were a few whinges in the crowd, people throwing up hands in upset. “Oh hush”, he lightly chastised, hopping off the table, “And here I was of the opinion that the dramatic one around here was the captain.”

The crew cracked into laughter at that, a few cheering in agreement. Harry liked this. Connecting with the crew, making jokes with them, showing them that he wasn’t an outsider who would judge them and belittle them. He felt they had really been making an effort with him lately. He had even gone and spent the evening with everybody yesterday instead of holing himself up in the girl’s room with his diary.

“What’s so funny?”

Everyone’s heads snapped to the door where the captain was stood leaning against the frame, hands in his pockets casually. He looked relaxed, adorning no coat or hat. He didn’t even have a weapon on his hip today. His hair was tussled across his forehead, the light shining in behind him softening his edges.

Despite his calmness the crew stood immediately to attention, quickly spilling out of the room like he had opened the floodgates to carry on with their work. 

Harry still remained though. He began to tidy up his things while he still felt the captain’s presence by the door. There had been a strange unspoken air between them since that horrific morning at Niall’s family home. The captain’s usual antagonising had been slim to none. He seemed to be actively avoiding him actually. Harry would say he was wildly offended and that he quietly missed the captain’s remarks except for the fact he would never say that.

At least out loud. 

“Care to let me in on the joke?”, he asked, sauntering into the dining area with easy strides.

“It was nothing captain”, Harry answered, gathering up his sheets of paper. He didn’t particularly want the captain to know he was slagging him off to his own crew. Harry wasn’t a fool and recognised by now the captain’s unique leniency with him, but that only stood all the while he still found him amusing. He might not have found himself being the but of a joke all that amusing.

The captain tapped his foot and looked around the space as if it was foreign to him. “Does a room of people often laugh at nothing in your experience. Is that a posh people thing?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders as he ran around and collected up the pens. “Depends on who’s talking.”

The captain scoffed at Harry’s answer as he watched him clean up. Harry didn’t realise it was so interesting to observe someone pile up books and pack away materials into an emptied suitcase. His glance at the captain said as much, but it didn’t deter his spectating. 

The captain leaned his back against the wall in front of Harry, the panels creaking. “Thought I’d mention you can be quite dramatic yourself princess.”

Harry felt his face flush as he stacked up the last book. So the captain _had_ heard him. Great. 

“My name is Harry”, he repeated for perhaps the millionth time when he looked up, accompanied with a fake smile. 

“I happen to remember you saying you like my little nicknames for you.”

He paused in the middle of clipping his suitcase closed, the words haulting his air supply. Oh god. He definitely did _not_ remember saying that. Why would he say that? He would never say that.

He would never say that sober. Goddammit Niall.

“I’m afraid you must have dreamt it.”

The captain tutted at Harry’s blatant lie as he hurriedly fumbled with the leather straps. “Unlike you Curly, I woke up with a perfectly clear head yesterday morning. Some pretty colourful memories.”

The captain was looking back at him waiting for his next bashful and rosy-cheeked response but Harry refused to satisfy him. He was done being a pawn in the captain’s little game. It was no fun being on the sidelines. Seen as the captain enjoyed himself so much, fine, he could too. As long as the teams were evened up.

“I suppose you’re right”, he began demurely, twirling his hair with a delicate finger. He strolled forward unassumingly, planting both hands on the desk and leaning forward with a shy flutter of his eyelashes, “All I can recall is you barging in on me, rather enthusiastically if I may note, whilst I was naked. I sincerely hope you remember that equally as well seen as you gawked for long enough. I’m sure you had lots of fun with _that_ colourful memory last night.”

The captain stood shocked into stillness.

Harry snapped up his case from the table, biting his lip as he left the scene to stop himself from bursting into spontaneous giggles. He made a point to instantly save a picture of the captain’s expression to the forefront of his mind. His eyes large and dark, the hesitant bob of his throat and his lips, for once, not moving. He was filled with a bubbling feeling rushing through his body as he emerged into the hot sunlight, spotting the girls and Niall practically rolling around in silent hysterics. 

“Were you listening on the other side of the door?” he asked through a restrained smile.

Perrie composed herself and put a firm hand on his shoulder, standing up straight and putting on a professional manner. “Hazza, never in all my years of life have I seen the captain speechless until today. You have earned my eternal respect.” 

“I am honoured to have fulfilled that dream for you”, he played along with a chuckle, bowing before her like royalty.

“Haz, you fulfilled that dream for all of us”, Niall assured and they all had to stifle their laughs as they stumbled off. Harry understood why the captain played this so often. It was far too enjoyable.

~+~

When Harry walked into the dining area the next morning, his makeshift classroom was full to the brim. It was full for the next few days after that too. 

“I hoped zayn would come”, Liam sighed, he and Harry watching his new students leave after the lesson had ended. They were going so much better than Harry could have expected. They were engaged, asking questions, making progress. He had gotten all of them to write their name at this stage. Harry had nearly cried with pride when he was handed a perfectly spelled and wonderfully written, ‘Luke Hemmings’.

It was odd in a way. He was younger than practically all of them, yet they all listened to him. They gave him respect and tried their hardest with whatever task he gave them. They took onboard his advice and never lashed out if they ever did get frustrated. He wouldn’t even expect that off of ordinary people, let alone a band of pirates.

Harry was coming to find that a lot of what he had heard about pirates was not as it seemed. Considering he hadn’t been eaten alive by anyone yet, he figured a lot of things he had heard was not as it seemed.

“He's great at drawing you know, I think he'd be good at it.”

Harry turned the Liam with raised eyebrows. “Really? Art is what I was planning on pursuing until- well until circumstances changed.” 

Maybe he and Zayn were far more alike than he originally thought. It would be a nice icebreaker, if he joined the class. He could definitely see Zayn writing dark yet soulful poetry in the future. It would also be nice to have someone to talk to who had similar interests. The crew were perfectly good company but he awfully missed Alessandro waffling on about figure drawings and oil painting techniques. They just needed an initial step, then he was certain they would get along well. To prove to him his true intentions and not whatever Zayn thought he was plotting. Then maybe things could go better than he first imagined.

Things _had_ been going better than he had ever had first imagined.

His luck had to run out sometime. 

“Ship ahead!”

Harry’s head snapped up from correcting repetitions of l, m n and o, his eyes wide. This was the moment he had been dreading for weeks. So far they had managed to avoid run ins up until now, but Niall and Liam had warned him for once they got closer to the Mediterranean the water was going to get a lot busier.

And nastier.

He threw down his sheets from his lap and hurried outside from the cabin where people were running everywhere. Cannons were rolling across deck, men were swinging from the netting and a million different concerns were being shouted roughly in the sea of people.

“Is it the Portuguese? Are the cannons ready? Where the fuck is Luke with the gunpowder? Hold on, it has a British flag!”

Oh god. Harry thoughts started to drown out the chaos encompassing him. There was no way his father would have been able to track down a single ship right? Ships pulled in and out of Chester port everyday, even if someone had reported him getting on a ship, it could have been any ship.

The ship in front of them could be any British ship.

The captain was out on deck now, standing to a calm attention as the other ship gained ground on the water. He had his hand in the air, ready to give a signal if needed be. Everyone had a weapon in their hand, be it a gun, sword, or something far scarier with spikes and nails sticking out of it. Even Jade who was the sweetest person he knew on the best of days had a pistol wavering. Meanwhile Harry’s legs felt like they would go from under him as he stood with his quill still locked in his hand.

The air was deathly silent as the two giant vessels sat side by side. The only thing breaking the tension was the flags snapping in the wind, the Union Jack flag and the crossbones of the Bluebird’s flag respectively.

The two boats were practically in touching distance now. Harry looked on from the back. He could just about make out faces and features of the crew on the other boat. They were well groomed, young and uniformed in navy. Harry’s eyes travelled up along the anxious faces until he reached the end of the line. If his face wasn’t frozen with fear he would have gasped as he saw Lord Cowell standing at the top of the railing.

He slammed himself closer to the wall, the rest of the Donny Rovers too distracted to pay attention to his distress. Except for the worst case scenario, being the prince and his father, this was the next worse case scenario. He tried to control steady breaths while at the same time thinking it would be better to have the ship blown to pieces by rival pirates. 

Out of everyone they could have bumped into, it was the one Lord of England that Harry saw the most. The Styles and the Cowells had a long established friendship. Well, Styles meaning his father. Harry never liked him. He had something sneaky in his ways, always throwing around these creepy stares and was confidently, the most self absorbed person Harry had ever met. He was an intelligenet man though. He knew how to manipulate and was extremely observant.

He’d instantly recognise him. 

That meant his cover would be blown. Meaning everybody would know he was a liar, or at least a withholding crucial information-er. Meaning the captain would likely send him off the plank, effective immediately no matter how much he batted his eyelashes and curled his hair.

“Simon!” The captain called across the gap with a mistakenly happy tone, “I would say it’s nice to see you again but it’s not really.”

“Tomlinson”, Cowell spat. Tomlinson? It took Harry a second to put together Tommo and Tomlinson.

Louis Tomlinson. That was the captain’s name. Huh.

“Last month some of my trading ships got plundered coming through the Atlantic. I’ve more than one witness claiming it was you and your jolly band of thieves.”

The captain gasped dramatically and pointed to himself, “Me? The boys and I”, there was an exaggerated cough in the crowd from Jesy, “and girls of course, would never do something like that would we?”

Some snickers and jeering comments murmured from the crew. “You see”, the captain said, hoping up onto a box, ”Stand up citizens we are here.”

“So that ring your wearing right now isn’t a piece off my ship?” Simon countered, jabbing his meaty finger at louis hand where there was indeed, two golden rings on his hand.

“Precisely.”

Simon began to toy with his belt, more specifically the embellished sword tied to it, while staring down the captain with heavy eyelids. “I’ve come to politely ask for the return of all of my stolen goods and in the case of a successful exchange, I may spare your life.”

Harry realised why this sounded so familiar. Simon had visisted about a month before, raving and ranting about stolen artifacts on a fleet of his ships. Harry had overheard him and his father in the gardens while he was finishing up a painting, talking over a glass of wine. Or rather yelling over a glass of wine. He wasn’t eavesdropping or anything, it was just that it was difficult not to hear Simon when he was in a heated conversation.

“You _may_ spare my life?”, the captain clarified, with a swift swipe unsheathing his sword. The rest of the crew followed suit, the tetchy energy suddenly sky rocketing. “Those odds don’t sound all that promising to me. What were you going to spend all that gold on anyway? A children’s orphanage?” 

Cowell scoffed irritably. “I suppose you were going to make better use of it were you? Invest in some beer and brothels?”

“And I’ll be thinking of you fondly with every penny I spend! Now, this is what I would do if it were me in your shoes right now. I would look around and see that I am greatly outnumbered and frankly, not as nimble as used to be either”, he pointed out, gesturing around his hip and belly area.

This only caused Cowell to grow more infuriated and he ripped out his own weapon. While the captain’s sword was much more agile and light, Cowell’s was heavy and about twice as long. “I’ll give you one last chance Tomlinson.”

Harry was afraid to breathe. Everything was still for a few beats, until the captain groaned loudly with a roll his eyes. “I really didn’t want to ruin my new coat today!” 

He snapped down his hand and it all kicked off.

Men started charging onto eachother ships, a plank erecting between the two acting as a bridge. Harry’s mind raced as he stood flat against the wooden panelling, trying to block out the mayhem ensuing behind him. He was not planning on dying today, but maybe dying would be better than seeing the disappointment in the captain’s face if he got exposed. That notion quickly disappeared when he felt someone grab his collar and yank him backwards.

“Hey relax it’s just me!”, he heard as he thrashed and squirmed to release himself from the grip. When the blind panic faded, he realised it was Liam.

“Don’t do that!”, he yelped, but was completely ignored as Liam dragged him into the kitchen and back into the cramped galley.

“Stay here, don’t leave this spot”, he ordered, a seriousness in his eyes Harry had yet to see.

“But-“

“No buts about it. In the nicest way possible Harry, you’d only get yourself hurt or get someone else hurt trying to protect you. You’ll be safe here.”

Liam was gone again in a flash back into the action. He was left alone to feel like a complete coward but ultimately knowing Liam was right. He’d only be a burden out there. There was no way he could ever kill somebody. Even if he ever wanted to he had no weapon experience except for the few times his father practically tied a sword onto his hand. 

He peaked out through a crack in the door to the outside. Everything was a blur of swinging arms and ducking heads, though the two fronts could easily be told apart by their clothing. Who he was however trying to keep an eye on was Cowell. Cowell would go straight for the captain. He was prideful enough to take him on himself. Harry peered through the clashing chaos for about five awful minutes in search of the blue feather of the captain’s hat.

A sudden crash inside the dining room made him jump and hit his head off the cabinet above. He stopped moving with his hand held to his head, halting his breathing until he couldn’t anymore. There was a struggle taking place on the other side of the door. Grunts and the sounds of metal dishes clattering on the ground pierced his ears. He took a shaky step towards the door, cracking it open as carefully as he could.

Two men had crashed into the room, one of the men thrown on his back across a table while another towered over him, a knife in their fist. Harry could tell the man standing over was one of Cowell’s given his uniform, while he manoeuvred his view to identify the second person who was pinned down.

He swallowed his breath when he saw it was Zayn.

Harry twisted around, his eyes darting over the tiny kitchenette as he tried to think. Zayn couldn’t die. Harry couldn’t watch Zayn die. Liam and Zayn needed to celebrate their anniversary soon. The captain needed his best friend. Harry needed something quick. 

He ran his hands along the mess of kitchen delf and picked up the first thing his hand landed on. Something solid and weighty. A frying pan. Blunt force object, large surface area, hard to miss a target. That should do it.

He gripped the handle and looked through the gap again, getting them into sight. Zayn’s face was clenched as he fought off the knife that was now dangerously close to his chest. The blade was quivering with the force of the two men pushing back in opposite directions. 

Harry frantically went back and forth as to what would be the best approach. The decision was made for him when Zayn lost his grip on the man’s shoulders and the knife slipped down and grazed the curve of his throat. There was no time for deciding, he just had to do.

He burst through the galley’s doors, his eyes squeezed shut as he drew back and swung the pan from over his shoulder. A poignant ‘thwong’ sound echoed in the room, followed by a collapsing heap at his feet. He was terrified the open his eyes as he heard no further movement, terrified he was too late.

However when he eventually gave in, Zayn was staring back at him, hazel eyes a mix of panic and relief. They panted back at eachother, the pure adrenaline of what had just happened still coursing through their veins. Harry abruptly dropped the pan, and they both watched it roll at Zayn’s attacker’s feet.

It wasn’t until they heard “Fall back! Retreat!” hollered from outside that they came fully back to their senses. Zayn threw himself up off the table and landed on unsteady legs. Liam came running in just as he did, presumably to check on Harry, his face slapped with confusion when he saw Zayn and Harry standing together with a stranger in a heap behind them.

Liam immediately reached out for Zayn and held him tightly, putting the puzzle together. Although it was heartwarming, it was also scary how quickly that could have been lost. How if Harry had been two seconds late things might have been different. It was touch and go out here. Things had to be taken day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. He never had that, in a life so planned and a goal so clear.

“Did we lose anyone?!”, he heard over the crowd. He exhaled a small breath he didn't know he was holding. That was the captain. He was okay. It mattered more to him then it probaby should have. 

Liam and Zayn left and Harry followed behind, Liam’s arm still snug around his partner. Everything had happened so fast, Harry would say the whole ordeal lasted no more than ten minutes, yet the Bluebird’s landscape had changed drastically. It looked like the aftermath of a warzone, the ones his father would scare him to sleep with. Torn sails, blood staining walls and the wood, some bodies curled up, others writhing in pain. Harry’s eyes quickly skimmed over the ones that weren’t moving. All of them seemed to be some of the young boys from Cowell’s ship, which filled him with both guilty relief and a sickening truth .

Those boys weren’t his friends but they were just like him. Inexperienced teenagers who were thrown into a situation they didn’t understand or knew how to deal with by adults who should have known better. He felt like he was about to throw up as some of them were hauled over to slump against the railing, like they were clearing away waste. He looked away.

Leigh-Anne came charging out onto the scene. “Injuries on the deck now!”, she yelled, waving her sword in the air. Crew sprung to action, clearing a large space right in the middle of the deck. He watched as people held up their friends as they hobbled, while others needed further assistance, while other were dragged unconscious. 

He spent a few minutes fumbling around wondering what to with himself before going up to Leigh-Anne, who looked very stressed but in her element.

“Anything I can do do help Leigh, I’d be happy to.”

She pointed to the line of injured people that was starting to grow. “If you could just-”, she said running a hand over her hair, “Tell cap there’s 12 injuries, 4 critical and one possible amputee”, she ordered through gritted teeth while tying a turnicet on a howling patient. 

Harry nodded quickly and gave her her space to work, making his way to the captain’s quarters. He felt a brush on his arm as he walked past, ignoring it as unintentional until he heard his name called. 

He turned around to find Zayn standing there somewhat shyly, his eyes flitting downwards. Harry supposed he was still anxious and on edge after what had just happened. Harry couldn’t even begin to imagine the million thoughts that must have haunted him as the knife slipped further down.

“Thank you”, he finally said, his voice thick and reluctant, “For earlier. If you hadn’t been there I-”

Without hesitation Harry took his hand and squeezed it. For a minute Zayn looked like he was going to rip it out of his grip for, give Harry a harsh look and storm away. Instead he locked eyes with Harry, a surprised sincerity twinkling in them and he squeezed back. That was it. That small gesture. That was their truce. 

Zayn walked away then to where Liam was standing watching them, a huge smile across his face. Harry was glad as he felt a weight lifted off his shoulder. If it took a guy nearly killing him to help them reconcile their differences, then so be it. It worked.

When he knocked on the captain’s door nobody answered. He waited a few moments before he went in anyway. He was more afraid of what Leigh-Anne would say to him if he didn’t do as he was told than the captain. She was scary when she was in work mode. 

“I’ve been told to to report 12 injuries, 4 critical and a possible amputa-tion”, he relayed, his voice trailing off. The captain had jolted when he entered, quickly pulling the covers of his bed down to conceal his legs. Scattered around where he was sitting on the edge of the bed were dark stained cloths, at his feet and crumpled at the bottom of the bed.

“You’re hurt”, Harry said, his voice calmer and softer. He crossed the room, carefully treading over a half ripped shirt strewn on the ground. He presumed that’s where all the DIY bandages had come from. 

“I’m fine”, the captain mumbled, making a move to stand up but hissing as hot pain shot through his leg under the pressure. He fell back onto the bed and Harry could see frustration in his face more than the pain.

Harry knelt down beside him and sat back on his heels, the captain watching him cautiously as he did so. Usually Harry was the one keeping a careful eye on the captain. 

He gently pushed away the bed covers, the captain allowing him to. Harry winced as he uncovered the injury. A clean slice through the better part of his calf, blood dripping down and around his ankle. There was an attempt at sowing it up happening if Harry was to go by the few wonky stitches and needle on the ground, though not a very good one.

He kept inspecting the wound. “If you go to leigh-”

The captain cut him off with a wave of his hand. “She has her hands full. I’m a big boy, believe it or not but Simon bloody Cowell is not the first person to have had a stab at me.”

The captain reached for the needle and went to punch it through his skin again, despite the awkward angle. “I’ve done this plenty of times myself.”

Harry promptly snatched the needle from his hand while the captain gaped back at him. “Did you make such a mess of it on each occasion?”

The captain released a surprised laugh that melted into an easy grin. That effortlessness of the captain still made Harry’s tummy twirl just as it did the first day on the port. 

“I can’t ever win with you, can I Curly?”, he sighed, “I didn’t realise you were a certified medical professional, might have been handy to know.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m not, but I have sewn one or two garments together in my time.”

He grabbed the dismembered shirt from behind him and spotted a bottle of whiskey rolling around under the bed. He poured some out onto the rags and ran the needle through it, wiping it clean and disinfecting it.

“Drink the rest of this before I start, you’ll need it”, he promised handing him up the bottle. He’d need something in him to numb the pain he was about to inflict.

“Anybody ever told you you’re bossy?”, the captain jested, taking the bottle off him. 

Harry threaded the needle with a contemplative expression before answering. “I prefer the term persuasive.”

The captain snorted around the bottle of whiskey as he gulped it down. Harry moved closer to the wound, assessing where to start. It was long and quite deep but at least it was clean. He dabbed the cloth of alcohol along it to soak up the blood along his leg. He quickly glanced up at the captain, his face contorted as he suffered the sting. 

He lined up the needle, trying to keep his hand as steady as possible. The captain flinched slightly with the first pierce, but he was remarkably silent. Harry knew that it had to hurt, he would probably be crying his eyes out if it were him. The more Harry thought about the unimaginable pain the captain must have been through to have numbed his senses this much, the sadder he got. 

“You know”, the captain said behind gritted teeth, “you didn’t have to wait until my leg almost got chopped off for an excuse to spend time with-Ow!”

“Apologies, I got distracted”, Harry replied flatly, a smug smile tugging the corner of his lip as the captain shut up after that.

Another while of stitching together and Harry was pretty proud of himself. It looked good and tight and he was hopeful that the skin underneath would heal. He hadn’t much experience to go on, but as long as the captain looked after it he was confident it would heal nicely.

He got himself up off his knees, his legs cramping from being in the solid position for so long and his shoulders stiff from leaning over. He dusted himself off as the captain inspected his newly sutured injury. 

He looked impressed as he twisted his leg, “Well that’s some handy craftsmanship right there. If these English classes fail you can be the new nursing assistant. Or the Bluebird’s official tailor.”

Harry actually laughed at that, a real laugh. He tried to ignore the way the captain’s face brightened up at the sound. He didn’t want to overthink it too much.

“Flattery is for the weak willed”, he preached, remembering what Alessandro had told him the day he left. It seemed so far away now, like snippets of a past life that would float into his mind every so often. It was almost dreamlike. “Besides Leigh-Anne was doing just fine by herself.”

“She’s amazing isn’t she?”, the captain said, genuine appreciation in his voice. 

“I don’t know how she does it if I am to be wholly honest”, he answered, sitting himself on the end of the bed.

“How are you holding up?”

Harry looked at him, eyebrows creased. “How do you mean?”

The captain sat himself up against the head board with a heave. “Well, I would presume you’ve never experienced something like that. People dying right in front of you. It’s heavy shit.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time exactly”, Harry mumbled to himself. He knew by the way the captain was looking at him that he had heard, but he didn’t say anything. It felt like he wanted to though. His lip was twitching slightly and his eyes couldn’t hide the clogs turning behind them. He didn’t say anything though.

“Liam told me what you did, for Zayn”, he added instead, after a while.

Harry gave a weak smile, then decided to ask what had been plaguing him since that moment. “What will happen to him, the boy I-um“

“Clobbered over the head with a pan?”, the captain conveniently filled in.

“Yes, that.”

“He’ll be dealt with.”

“As in he’ll be...?”

“Dealt with”, the captain repeated, refusing to divulge the details. Harry had an incline he already knew. “That’s just the way it works here. I can’t let someone who held a knife to my crew member’s throat walk away. Tell me, imagine if someone you care for was in Zayn’s position today, would you kill if you had to to protect them?”

Harry thought about his answer carefully. Would he kill someone to save a life, if that had been Alessandro on that table? Even after everything his father has done to him, would he ever kill him if he had to? Would he kill Angela? The prince?

Harry shook his head, dispelling the notion. “I don’t feel like I would have the capacity to ever kill anyone.”

The captain huffed and looked as if he expected that answer, but didn’t fully buy it. “Enjoy that feeling while you still have it.”

Harry was about to ask what he meant by that, but decided against it. He didn’t really want to know. He didn’t want to imagine the man in front of him taking the life from someone, whether they deserved it or not. Ignorance was bliss sometimes.

“I’ll wipe down your leg one more time now that it’s sealed then I’ll leave you be”, Harry said, avoiding the subject.

“Desk drawer.”

Harry got up and scavenged around in the captain’s desk looking for another bottle of alcohol to use a cleaner when he stumbled across a collection of rings. There was about ten of them scattered in a drawer, ranging in decoration and shape. They were beautiful, so gold they were almost yellow. They must have been some of the stolen ones from Cowell’s ships. Harry loved rings, they were his preferred jewellery of choice. His hands felt strange without them. He had to take them off before he went to the docks to blend in easier.

“Cowell stole those too you know.”

Harry jumped around, the comment making him realise he had gotten distracted. “Excuse me?”

“I just find it funny”, the captain said, hauling himself up on two feet and taking steady steps towards Harry, “Cowell trying to kill me for stealing those off him knowing he’d already stolen off other people. Those are from the Spanish, who firstly stole them off the tribes from the civilisations in the New World, South America.”

The captain leaned against the desk beside Harry, plucking a ring from the box drawer and fiddling with it in his hand as he spoke. “I heard it’s a sight to behold. Gold everywhere, jewellery, statues, art. There’s a long believed rumour that somewhere out there, deep in the jungle, is a city built entirely out of gold. You heard of it?”

Harry shook his head, holding onto his every word as the captain’s ocean eyes were alight with wonder. Harry felt the captivation and the thrill like he was a child again. He felt like he could listen to the captain talk forever about hidden golden cities. Nobody at home ever indulged in these fantastical daydreams with him. They were unrealistic, myths of the unknown that wasted valuable thoughts.

But the captain was unafraid to explore the unknown.

“Well the Spanish call it ‘El Dorado’”, he continued, “They have this empire purely built out of gold. As if pieces of the sun had dripped down from the sky and covered everything below it”. He flipped the ring and let it land in the centre of his palm.

“A mystery of the modern world.”

Harry was so hypnotised he didn’t even notice the captain carefully sliding the ring onto his finger until he felt the cold metal register against his hot skin. He looked down to see it hugging his finger beautifully, a sun pattern etched around it’s glossy surface with fierce delicacy.

As he dumbly admired it, a sudden scary idea pierced his thoughts. It was Friday. It had been exactly two weeks since he ran away from home. If things had gone differently, he would be in London. He would have spent two weeks in the royal palace, presumably suffering the prince’s efforts in courting him. Today was supposed to be his wedding day.

There was a ring on his finger and his heart was racing, but it wasn’t a prince gazing back at him.

“I can’t have this”, he suddenly blurted, going to yank the ring off but froze when a pair of sun-kissed hands stopped him.

“Why not?”, the captain asked lowly, “you want it right?”

“We can’t always have what we want”, Harry breathed, getting swallowed up in the contact and how close they were to eachother. Everything about the captain overwhelmed him. Each time he was sure his head was back above the water and floating he started to drown again. Was this routine for them now? Snarky comments during the day that built up this fiery intenseness that finally boiled over in the evenings? Did he want it to stop? 

He wasn’t sure he did.

Something was flickering over the captain’s expression while Harry’s mind whirled. His eyes were dancing across Harry’s face, but not like usual. This time there was a sadness. They were almost lost as they travelled from his eyes, down his curls and finally landing on his lips. Harry couldn’t move if he tried.

“No”, he finally murmured, “but this time you can.” He closed Harry’s hand back over the ring, his hand on top. Harry tried to think of a last ditch attempt to rid him of whatever this sentiment was. He could feel himself slipping fast. 

“I would be assisting in a crime... ”

The captain snorted and shook his head fondly , “Talking to me right now is also crime princess. Everything is a crime nowadays, some are just worse than others. One way or another someone gets screwed over no matter what decision you make.” 

He supposed that was true. In every situation there was good and a bad and then a grey area of opinion. What was a crime at the end of the day? Who got to decide what’s good and bad when someone will always lose? The captain was right, someone always got screwed over.

Harry had decided two weeks it wasn’t going to be him. He wasn’t about the tell the captain he agreed with him however. 

“You really should stay in this evening”, he said, almost at a whisper, “You could burst those stitches quite easily.”

The captain backed away and suddenly Harry wasn’t suffocating anymore. “Maybe I won’t”, he said, collapsing into his office chair, “then you’ll have to come back and stitch it up again.”

“Who’s making up excuses now?”, Harry teased quietly, finally finding the bottle and screwing the cap off. 

“You got me there love”, the captain admitted unashamed as Harry gave his wound one last cleanse.

“You know, I find it highly unreasonable that you get to have this plethora of names for me yet I am still resigned to calling you captain.”

The captain considered Harry’s light-hearted complaint. “How about this”, he bargained, ”When it’s just you and me, you can call me whatever you feel like calling me.”

Harry didn’t spend too much time thinking it. It had been on the tip of his tongue for a few days now. “What about Louis?”

The captain’s face faltered at that. It mellowed out, unclear like he was confused by the request. Harry didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing,

“Just Louis?”, he checked, sounding almost in disbelief.

“Just Louis.”

The captain’s lips grew slowly but surely into a grin. “I’m sure I could manage that.”

Harry turned away to put the bottle down, doing his best to hide his smile at the small victory. “Okay well”, he started as he got to the door of the cabin, “Goodnight. Louis.”

The captain laughed a little then. Harry wasn’t sure what he was laughing at. “Goodnight, Curly”, he said airily.

Harry twisted his ring nervously around his finger the whole way back to the girl’s cabin. He twisted it while he waited to fall asleep that night. He twisted it while he walked up to the top of the dining area to start the lesson the next day. He stopped twisting it when he was gleefully shocked to see Zayn sitting up beside Niall, slightly self conscious but reassured but the bundle of Irish energy beside him. 

Yeah, Harry thought, smiling to himself. Life on the Bluebird really wasn’t that bad. Not bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was super fun to write I hope it was just as fun the read! I hope you enjoyed my little “Tangled” easter egg, Rapunzel is my absolute favourite princess so I thought it was only fitting to have some frying pan action in there XD


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aka the forced to share a bed chapter. The cliche I just couldn’t pass up, I’m too weak!
> 
> This took longer than expected to come out because this is about 2/3 of what I had originally written but I decided to split it up so next chapter already has a good start! Stick with the slow burn, its only painful for another few chapter I promise...
> 
> Btw I should probably mention that Harry is aged down (18) and Louis is proportionally too (21) just because it would be very weird for somebody over 20 in 18th century nobility not to be either engaged or betrothed to someone, but he looks somewhere around 2014 Harry.

Louis heard a timid knock at his door. 

He didn’t even have to get up from his bed to know who it was. Everyone else was boozing the evening away, making dramatic re-enactments on top of tables and chairs of the fight with Cowell’s men from yesterday. He already envisioned Niall and Jesy clattering together wooden spoon in epic battle, Liam trying to get them both to come down before they hurt themselves.

There would only be one person who would even dare to resist such festivities.

“Come in love”, he called, watching as predicted, Harry came shuffling in with an armful of books and pages, toeing open the door. Louis hadn’t a clue what he was coming to him with all that for. He never really had a clue about anything when it involved Harry. The boy never failed to intrigue him. He was annoyingly intriguing. 

Harry Harry Harry. What was it about Harry? He didn’t have a parrot ironically enough given his occupation, but his brain was doing a good job substituting. He couldn’t go five minutes without a little chime ringing between his ears repeating his name like a ritual. What was it that got him stuck in his head? It was like his thoughts had manifested into the stubborn boy himself, refusing to leave the forefront of his mind. 

Hell, he was the first thing he thought of when Cowell came knocking. The first order he had relayed to Liam. Go find Harry and put him somewhere safe. It was like instinct, just a natural response that had been embedded into him. He didn’t think of himself, not his treasure, not even his ship. It was wildly unnerving, this sudden lack of selfishness. He thought keeping his distance would help him set his priorities straight again, but it had made it infinitely worse.

He told himself that it was because keeping Harry alive and well was vital to getting the money he was promised. That it was nothing more than the need for survival kicking in. If that was true than it felt like Harry was wedged right between food and breathing which...

He didn’t entirely enjoy at all. Perhaps he had taken this nanny complex to a whole new level.

“How did you know it would be me before I entered?” Harry’s eyebrows were knotted together. It was a little quirk Louis had picked up on about him because apparently he noticed people’s quirks now. 

“How did you know that _I_ knew it was you?”, Louis returned.

Harry was immediately thrown off by the question, his mouth fishing open and closed and eyelashes fluttering. “Um-nothing never-mind” he stammered, hastily setting down his things onto the desk with a thud. One or two books cascaded off the heap onto the ground with a strong shift of the Bluebird.

“No, please carry on. First you’re a scholar, then a doctor, then a tailor. Don’t tell me you’re a gypsy psychic now too?”

Harry really looked as if he wanted to avoid the question, which was exactly why Louis wanted to know the answer. After all he hadn’t called Harry in by his name. 

The boy jerked his shoulder and turned his back to Louis. “It’s nothing you just- um- you said ‘love’ that’s all.”

Love. Louis didn’t even know where the endearing term had come from in the first place. It was the first thing that slipped out of his mouth when he spun around at the port and saw what looked like a lost kitten, overtly defensive with wide green eyes and all. Love had just suited him, fell perfectly off his lips. He guessed Harry just looked like love.

He chose to ignore the implications of that thought.

He hauled his injured leg over the edge of the bed stiffly. He was not letting this go so quickly. “Why, am I not allowed to call anyone else on my ship love?”

Harry fixed him with a hard stare from over his shoulder. “Well do you?”, he questioned, his tone accusatory and dare he say, with a hint a jealousy. Like a wife spotting another woman’s name in her husband’s letters.

It made Louis unexplainably giddy.

Giddy, Jesus christ. He hadn’t felt giddy since he and Zayn smoked a full box of cuban cigars that were definitely not just tobacco. This giddy was different though. It was youthful and almost alive as it tumbled through him, as if they were children in a school yard pulling on each-others pigtails. He supposed that was appropriate for their strange little dynamic. Poking and prodding to get a reaction from each other, good or bad. 

Or maybe it was one sided pigtail pulling on Louis’ part.

“No”, he admitted, going with honesty. He could have lied and insinuated Harry was one of many, but who would he even suspect? Niall, liam or Zayn? No, he gagged at the thought. Too brotherly. The girls? All of them would land a boot in his balls if he even dared. 

He probably imagined the fleeting look of relief that passed over Harry’s face at the admission. Wishful thinking was a cruel bastard.

“Oh!”, Harry gasped, jolting back around to face Louis. “My apologies. I came here to ask if you’d be so kind to facilitate me using your desk for a few hours to correct things? Just for tonight while the dining area is occupied?”

Right, because Harry didn’t just come to be in his company.

Louis pointed lazily to the stack of Harry’s belonging already strewn across the desktop. “Looks like you’ve made yourself quiet at home there.”

Harry snapped down and picked up what had fallen earlier, holding them flush to his chest. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I can take my leave if you’d rather be alone.”

Take my leave. Could he not just say “tell me to fuck off” or something. Not that he would tell him to fuck off but besides the point. 

He lifted his arm and let it drop like dead weight again. “Doesn’t bother me Curly. Go ahead.”

Louis couldn’t take his eyes away as Harry started to gather his hair into a bun, a slight sheen down along his neck. The day had been balmy and sticky, the humid heat settling and sapping the energy out of everyone. Nobody really minded that much after the aftermath of yesterday. A calm quiet day had been what they all needed. 

When Harry had it sufficiently tightened to his liking and he looked up, his eyes immediately met with Louis’. “How is your leg?”, he asked hastily, diverting attention and organising his books and papers across the desk.

He looked older with all the hair out of his face. The defined lines of his jaw were now exposed, giving him a sharper appearance. It gave him an air of maturity, a certain tilt of poise and gentility to match his demeanour. Louis eventually glanced down. “It’s doing fine. Staying in and resting up just like I was ordered to.” 

“So Louis Tomlinson _can_ listen to people other than himself?”, Harry jested as he plopped himself in Louis’ chair. 

“Hey I thought we’d agreed on just Louis. Louis Tomlinson sounds like I’m about to get in trouble.”

Oh he was in so much trouble alright.

He never let anyone call him by his name except for the lads, but they were family. He had known them so long it would be weird if he _didn’t_ let them call him Louis, but Harry? Harry who’s surname he didn’t even know? For some reason he had decided this practical stranger could call him Louis too, all the boy had to do was ask. He supposed he took it as a good sign that Harry wasn’t so distressed around him anymore but at the same time it was not good at all.

Yesterday was an embarrassing display of that. All Harry had to do was mention the dreaded image of him, wet and glossy in the bath that Louis had tried so desperately to forget and he was rendered a functionless human being. He had stayed like that for another five minutes while he endured Niall’s cackling outside, half afraid to come out and see Harry laughing with him. 

He felt like any upper-hand he had previously held above the younger boy, any authority, was falling through his fingers, only for Harry to catch it and use it to his own advantage even if he didn’t realise. 

Harry eventually settled himself down with his work, while Louis pretended to be busy with something else. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was clear that they were both very aware of each other’s presence. This was new. It was the longest time they had spent in a room together. Their interactions had been random and sporadic up until then.

This time they had chosen to share the same space for a few hours, which already felt infinitely longer. It didn’t help that Louis tended to bore easy.

By the time he had snuck a glance over for maybe the eighth time that minute, Harry was enthralled by one of his many literatures. It didn’t look like correcting to Louis, but he didn’t mind. In fact he decided he wanted some of Harry’s attention too.

“Do you think you could read that out loud?”, He asked, breaching the silence that had been hanging over them.

Harry stopped flicking his pages and his narrowed eyes appeared from over the top of the cover. “I suppose I could, yes”, he agreed, if slightly suspiciously, “though I’m not sure it will be to your taste.”

“Or maybe you just don’t know me well enough.”

“So you’ll happily sit there quietly, quietly being the important term, while I read you Romeo and Juliet?”

“Ah the star crossed lovers divided by a vicious yet fruitless family feud?” 

Harry looked positively astonished.

“You know it?” he bawked.

“I know _of_ it”, Louis clarified, “Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure to hear it read to me though.”

“You know”, Harry began silkily in an effort to inspire sway, “if you came to my class you could read it yourself one day.”

“Damn Curly you really want me to come to these classes”, Louis pointed out, elbows perched on his spread knees as he leaned over, “Some pretty exciting shit must go down, does the teacher do a strip tease?”

“Maybe you should come and see for yourself.” 

This was also something new. Harry had apparently wanted in on this flirting back and forth thing, which Louis generally had no problems with. Flirting was always more fun with two players, however nobody ever really kept him on his toes like Harry did. Nobody had ever left him electrified and wanting more, leave him aching to push the boundaries and see just how far he could go. Even if they were just plain insults at times on Harry’s part, they were something. They were daring and he probably shouldn’t let him get away with them but he did because it excited him.

He felt like a kid toying with a match, completely captivated by something that would most definitely burn him. Still, the thrill of the flame heating his skin made him continue.

“I don't know”, he pondered, his voice caramelised, “maybe if I get a quick preview it would help me make my decision.”

“A preview of the reading or of the strip tease?” Harry inquired, his tongue subconsciously darting out over his lip. If two weeks before someone had told him that Harry would say the words “strip tease” while looking him dead in the eyes, he would have thrown them overboard for pure delusion.

“Why make me choose?” He said, adding logs to the heat.

They stared back at eachother for a few long seconds before Harry tossed his eyes, making his way back to the beginning of the play script. The fire was tamed momentarily, though it still simmered.

“Lets start with one perhaps.”

“Can I vote?”

Harry shook his head with a reluctant quirk of his lips. “No.”

Louis sighed and flopped back onto his bed. “Was worth a try. Take it away then Curly.”

Louis found himself actually invested in the story, chipping in with some running commentary as Harry went on, most of which Harry shushed with “It’s for the sake of storytelling”. He had found their declarations of holy palmers and pilgrimage kisses far too dramatic. Of course Harry had called it romance and of course Harry was a romantic. Why wouldn’t he be. He looked as if his heart was going to burst when it came to the balcony scene. There was one thing however, Louis could not look past.

“Wait wait wait”, he interrupted shooting up, “they are getting married!? They’ve only met eachother what, twice? Aren’t they like, ten too?”

“I don’t think they are ten Louis”, Harry retorted, just about to go back to the story but Louis wasn’t finished.

“Still, they are getting married? That is such a huge life commitment and they really don’t know anything about each other. What if they find out they aren’t as lovey dovey as they thought? They don’t even know eachothers astrology signs!”

“Astrology signs? Seriously?”, Harry intoned with an arched brow, “that theory was discounted in the 1680s.”

“I presumed Greek philosophy would be right up your street, no? Besides, I spend my whole life looking at stars, I’d be quite literally lost without them. Pretty important to me I would say.” Louis paused for a second, the question marinating, ”What’s your astrology sign?”

He waited for a reply, paying no heed at all, absolutely diregarding, the log of compatibility he had stored away in his brain. 

Harry picked at the bottom of his lip, deciding whether or not to indulge him. “Aquarius”, he eventually revealed shyly, like he was confessing something entirely more sinful.

Aquarius. Enigmatic, intelligent, full of ideas. Born in the height of spring when the world is fresh and bright. Named for the Trojan prince who’s astounding beauty managed to capture the attention of even the almighty, stuck-up-his-own-godly-arse Zeus who became so infatuated with the boy he made him immortal and hung him amongst the stars.

Seemed about right. 

Then there was Louis, a Capricorn. Ambitious, resourceful, solitary. Born in the coldest harshest times of winter. Named for some guy who grew horns because his mom made him suck milk from a goat. 

Okay maybe he didn’t think they were _entirely_ accurate all of the time. Still it was pretty badass how he grew a fish tail or whatever.

“Well, I commend them”, Harry argued, getting back to his point. Louis had almost forgotten about Romeo and Juliet. “Their love for eachother transcends whatever discord their families enforce on them. They decided who they wanted to be in love with. Not their parents.”

Harry had gotten quite passionate with that last part. He gathered himself back fairly quickly, but Louis definitely noticed it. He shifted in his seat, purposefully not making eye contact anymore like he was afraid of giving something away. 

Louis couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t curious as to where Harry came from and who he actually was, but never pressured people into talking about what their lives were before they ended up on the Bluebird. Partly because he didn’t care all that much but mostly because he would never expect people to do something that he wouldn’t himself.

Still, it made him wonder.

Harry was just about to pick up from where he left off when a roar of thunder rumbled outside and immediately he froze. Louis had more or less expected a storm was on it’s way given the hot weather and the rougher waves the boat seemed to be tackling. Harry clearly hadn’t picked up the signs as he flitted nervously from the book to the grey murky sky outside.

Louis raised his eyebrows. “You alright there?”

“Perfectly alright”, replied a clearly not at all perfectly alright Harry.

A spark of lightening cracking through the sky two seconds later sent the Shakespeare classic flying into the air with a startled squeal.

“You sure about that?”

Harry crossed his arms around himself and gulped, trying to shrink himself down into the chair. “How long um- how long do those usually last?”

“What last?”

Harry winced as another grumble of thunder shook the boat. “The storms.”

“You’re scared of storms?”, Louis questioned, poorly hiding his amusement. Louis had been raised with sea storms. He couldn’t even remember his first storm. He was probably born in the midst of one. The idea of being afraid of them was so foreign to him. Obviously he was wary of them and didn’t seek them out or anything, but he wasn’t scared of them. 

Harry tried to sit up straighter, trying to protect some pride. “Not the prospect of a storm just-“, he gave a long sigh, “I don't like loud noises.”

Louis tried to be sympathetic and lighten the mood while Harry sat huddled like an anxious rabbit. “Firework nights aren’t all that fun for you then?”

“Not exactly my evening activity of choice.”

“What is your evening activity of choice?”, he asked suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows.

Harry closed his eyes, restraining himself from chucking the nearest object at Louis’ head. “Would you mind answering my previous question?”

Louis decided to cut him a break. “Well it depends. Some could last an hour, others through the night, some will stay sort of rumbling for a few days even.”

Harry looked like he was going to pass out.

“I should probably retire then”, he briskly announced, rising on shaky legs as the ship breached a particularly harsh wave, “before it gets any worse.”

Don’t ask him to stay.

Harry scurried his way to the door, nearly tripping head over heels on the carpet lip as he held onto the doorknob for dear life. He twisted it with rapid succession, the door dislodging and flying open with the force of the wind whipping around the ship.

Don’t ask him to stay.

It took a few seconds of it slamming and nearly splitting from it’s hinges for Harry to grasp a grip of it and pull it back again, silencing the deafening wind.

“You know, if it’s freaking you out that much you could just stay here for the night.”

Fucking idiot.

Harry looked stunned at the offer. It wasn’t the first time it had been presented to him. He had practically galloped from his office when Louis had suggested it on the first night, but that time Louis knew he would say no. He had only said that to get under his skin. This time however, he appeared to seriously consider it before choking on a nervous laugh and shaking his head.

“No. Absolutely no need for that. I can- I’ll be fine.”

He held onto the door this time as he went to exit, but just as his foot hit the top stair another bang of lightening electricifed the darkness and rocked the living daylights out of the Bluebird. Harry scrambled back inside the office, shoving both his palms at the door and resting his forehead against it. 

He was going to stay.

His eyelids fell shut and a ragged sigh of defeat was pulled out of him. “So hypothetically... if I were to stay here tonight.”

Well done Tommo, this is where kindness gets you.

It was fine. Louis could manage this. He had literally made his bed and now he had to lie in it. He had slept with enough boys in his bed for it not to be a big deal. He wasn’t even having awkward or terribly lacklustre sex with this one. Not that he imagined anything with Har- 

He needed to stop.

“I’m not a blanket hogger I promise”, he said, holding his hands up innocently which felt so wrong after where his mind had just wandered to. He could control this, he could control himself. What was he, fifteen again? It was fine.

Or at least it would have been if Harry didn’t look absolutely terrified. 

His hands were quivering like leaves at his sides and Louis wasn’t sure it was fully a result of the storm raging outside. The thought of Harry being possibly afraid of him made him die a little inside, even though it shouldn’t. Usually he found some sick satisfaction when he saw people shiver in his presence. He knew he was safe then, nobody would fuck with him, nobody could lay a finger on him. He was the most powerful person in the room. He was supposed to be feared. People were supposed to be afraid of him. He was Captain Tommo. 

But for Harry, he was just Louis.

The boy started to anxiously wring his hands together. “I-“

“Oh come on princess do you want me to take an oath?” He cleared his throat and held a hand to his heart, “I, Louis Tomlinson pledge not to molest you in your sleep-”

“Its not that”, Harry dismissed, waving him quiet, “I’ve never exactly...”

“Never...?”

“It’s just-“, Harry paused sharply before the landslide of words came tumbling out. “I’ve never slept with someone, I mean, not like that! Well, actually yes like that too but that’s irrelevant to the issue at hand. Sort of. Not really but what I’m getting at is I’ve never been. In a bed, someone else’s bed. With somebody else. Sleeping in it. At the same time, other than you know, family which obviously I didn't, you know, _sleep_ with-“

“Woah, calm down!” Louis interrupted and he snapped shut, “So what your saying is you've never shared a bed?”

Harry opened his mouth like he was about to dispute, but stopped himself. He plonked heavily down on the bed beside Louis. “Yes.”

“So you’re really like, a _virgin_ virgin.”

Harry face dropped very fast from slightly embarrassed to very unimpressed. “Perhaps I’m willing to take the risk after all”, he stated, pushing off the bed.

“Hey, hey Harry, I was just joking!” Louis pleaded, grabbing Harry’s sleeve and holding him where he was. Harry stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes fell down to where he and Louis were connected. “Don’t leave, I’m sorry.”

Don’t leave? Who was he? Begging someone to stay? This was all wrong. He was the one who had to listen to the cries of countless girls and guys as he collected his clothes off the ground, hearing them spout some shit like, “we have something special” or “I’ll follow you across the world”. Louis was the one who’s shirt got pulled on, not the other way around. Louis was the one who was chased by the lonely, he was never the lonely one. He liked being alone, alone and free with nobody’s feelings concerned but his own. Tied to nothing or nobody but the sea. That was his motto.

He didn’t chase. He certainly didn’t beg.

So who on earth was he turning into?

Who was Harry turning him into?

“Look”, he reasoned, dropping his hand like the silk between his fingers was hot coal all of a sudden, “if it makes you that uncomfortable I’ll sleep somewhere else and you can stay-“

“I’m not uprooting you from your own bed”, Harry muttered, seating himself back down beside Louis. 

“Again, you mean”, Louis remarked with a smirk.

Harry looked appalled at the allegation. “You made that decision at Niall’s, not me.”

“You were incapable of standing straight let alone making decisions at Niall’s”

He got up to give Harry the space to move in, perching himself on the edge of his desk. Harry still didn’t look entirely comfy with the situation as he surveyed the empty bed, running a soft thumb over his bottom lip. Louis figured if he kept talking, it might stop the other lad from over thinking so much. Plus he was good at talking. It’s what he used to get out of almost every imaginable situation.

“So you’re telling me you _wouldn’t_ have slapped me in the face if you woke up beside me the next morning?”

“I can’t speak to the unforeseen actions of my past self”, Harry defended as he tentavively crawled into the bed. Louis noticed that he was taking a lot of care and precaution, as if there was a layer of poison ivy laid under the thin spread of cotton.

“That’s a yes then?”

“Yes, I would have most certainly slapped you.” 

Louis laughed reaching behind and pulling his shirt over his head. He went and hung it up behind his desk not even thinking twice about the little routine. In summer the cabin got too warm and he really didn’t have time to wash out sweaty clothes every few weeks. 

When he turned around he didn’t expect to see Harry taking him in mutely, gaze bouncing from one scribbled tattoo to the next, running along curves of muscle. Normally he would bask under the spotlight where words like “rugged” and “dangerous” were thrown at him while they gaped over his scars. That’s not how he felt as Harry suddenly found the ceiling very interesting after realising he’d been caught. Instead of flattered he felt apprehensive. Jittery almost, as if he was worried about not meeting expectations. It wasn’t that Harry had been particularly judgemental, it just made him sort of, in a way, kind of...

Nervous.

He never got nervous. Not anymore.

Maybe Harry wasn’t the one who needed to be scared.

“This should maybe be the part where I tell you I sleep naked”, he blurted, shattering the tension. He could do that at least. Joking around when things got too serious was a specialty and Louis was a trained talent.

“What!”, Harry screeched, clutching up the sheets tighter.

“Kidding, kidding!”, Louis cackled, slinking into the bed as benevolently and calmly as he could, both for Harry’s sake and his own. Harry had himself backed up right against the cabin wall like a cornered animal. Louis pulled the covers up carefully, making his actions obvious so the boy beside him wouldn’t bolt out of the room at any second. 

“I don’t bite love”, he reassured gently, but somewhat seriously.

“I know that”, Harry murmured, almost appearing embarrassed by how stressed out he was by the whole thing. Louis would say it was a shock that someone like Harry had never known what it felt like to be simply at peace in someone else’s company, but it wasn’t really. 

Rich families were notoriously cold. Poor families, like the one Louis grew up in, they had nothing but themselves and that made family the most important thing in the world. Rich people however had many things to love and fawn over. They had a whole world of things to adore and consume. There simply wasn’t enough room for everything, sometimes even their own children.

Harry had been forced to build up his walls, forced to isolate himself. People like Louis were supposed to have walls, he survived with them, they kept him strong but people like Harry? People who smiled like Harry and laughed like Harry? People who got excited over the prospects of everlasting love? They weren’t.

Whoever made him so afraid of affection must have been truly evil to take away something so natural from something as beautiful as Harry.

“Are you sure you're completely comfortable with this”, he asked again to settle his conscience.

Harry gave a short nod, steadily lying down to face him. “As long as you stay on your side.”

Louis could work with that. Boundaries were good, even if his arms were burning with the fight Louis was putting up to not reach out and hold him. Maybe it was just the way Harry was peering back at him, looking so young and unsure of himself with round emerald pools absorbing him.

Louis was struck in that moment by just how blindingly innocent Harry was. He was so unspoiled by the harshness of the world, of other people. His skin was still milky soft and clean, unlike his own that was tainted with the reminiscence of blood, revenge and cheap evenings spent with hundreds of men and women whose names he couldn’t remember. That’s if he even bothered to ask in the first place.

Louis made a promise to himself there and then that it wouldn’t be his hands that ruined him. He deserved more than that.

“Trust me, I had to share a bed with four sisters growing up”, he eased, hoping Harry would settle a little more, “Sticking to my side was vital to my survival.”

The boys face perked up at the mention of his siblings. He was going in the right direction. He could talk about his siblings all day if that’s what it took. Talk and distract. Harry already looked more relaxed, his grip on the crinkled sheets loosened.

“Wow, that’s a lot of sisters”, he marvelled, “and a lot of people in one bed.”

Louis chuckled, “Let me tell you, it felt like a lot more than four”.

Harry gave a small smile but his eyes were remorseful. If Louis was to guess he was thinking about the fact that he always had a bed to himself. A big four poster one he imagined, ladened with the finest fabrics and utmost comforts unlike the mattresses Louis had when he was younger, which were stuffed with straw that he and the twins had collected up by trailing the farmer’s carriage. 

Louis hadn’t intended to give him a bout of guilt for something that wasn’t his fault, so he changed the subject. “Any sisters yourself?”

Harry fidgeted over the simple question far longer than Louis thought would be necessary.

“Kind of”, he eventually answered, which left Louis none the wiser.

“I didn’t know you could have a ‘kind of’ sister”, he expressed, hoping Harry would clear up his statement. 

“Well I do-I mean I have two, technically”, he stuttered, “I have a step sister and um- let’s just say we never exactly saw eye to eye. Then I had an older sister, Gemma.”

His voice grew heavy and somber. “I don’t remember much about her. She died in a fire with my mother when I was five. I know it’s probably silly that I still count her as my sister but, I feel maybe I would forget about her if I stopped mentioning her.”

Louis’ heart twisted as he helplessly watched Harry cloud over with an emptiness, the joy and positivity he always seemed to carry was wiped from his face. He looked so small and alone and all at once the only thing that mattered to Louis was to show him he wasn’t. 

“I lost my mum too”, he uttered, hardly believe he was saying it out loud, “Mind you, I was older. I was fourteen but trust me, you don’t forget them.”

A few wet tears were threatening to breach Harry’s eyes now, and Louis wasn’t sure he could handle it if he started to actually cry. 

“Apparently we are identical”, he picked up with a sad smile, “couldn’t get rid of her if I tried.”

“I’m sorry Louis”, Harry breathed, his voice painfully sincere. Of course he was sad over the death of a woman he had never met. A death he knew no other details of other than that she was gone.

“No need to be sorry Curly”, Louis comforted with a tender shake of his head, “Don’t ever be sorry for things that aren’t your fault or you’ll be saying sorry all your life.”

Harry tried to swallow away his tears, gazing back at Louis with understanding and perhaps some gratitude. It warmed a fuzzy feeling deep inside him that he didn’t even realise was there.

“Who are your sisters with now?”, Harry asked, trying to divert from the bleakness. Louis was more than happy to go along with that.

“Well they’re with Lottie, the oldest after me. I stop over maybe three times a year, give them enough money to help support themselves until I can come around again. I haven’t been home in a while now. I’ve a younger brother too, I hope he’s not giving Lottie too much mischief.”

“Well if he’s anything like his big brother”, he teased, a hint of his usual brightness returning to his features. Thank god.

“I’m not sure what you mean”, Louis objected playfully, “I’m a perfectly good influence.”

“That must have been lovely, growing up with so much companionship”, he sighed with a note of longing.

“Small family?”

“Small minded would be more appropriate”, Harry chided, “I wasn’t exactly encouraged to run off and roll around in the wheat fields with the “dirty common children” as my father would so lovingly call them. That left me rather alone as I never fully fit in with the children like me either. As I got older things started running like a business. People only made friends with you if the benefited from you, got them good deals and reputations. My stepsister thrived, making connections all across Europe which my father was delighted about, while his disappointment of a son stayed at home with his head stuck in the clouds.”

Harry was looking down picking at his nails as if his father had just come in and shamed him himself. As if Harry being something real in his world full of fraud was something to frown upon. A distain for Harry’s father started to bubble in Louis’ stomach rather vehemently for having so little knowledge about the man. 

“Fathers have a habit of being absolute pricks”, he grumbled, not half as angrily as he felt, “Not that I have much experience seen as I never met mine but I think that speaks for itself.”

Harry huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I would refer to him _that_ harshly but...“

“Some people are worthy of such a title Curly, say it proudly.”

Harry stayed quiet but twisted his lips. Louis watched him bouncing the idea back and forth.

“Come on I know you want to”, he coaxed in a high pitched voice.

The corners of Harry’s lips started to pull, drawing out his dimple. He mumbled out the phrase in lightening speed then sealed up shut again. Louis needed more than that.

“Sorry what did you say?”, he said, cupping his ear, “didn’t quite catch it?” 

Louis wondered if it was the first time he had ever cursed. Prick was barely a curse word in Louis’ book, but it was a good beginners level.

Harry hesitated before he said it again, a little bit louder this time, but not loud enough for what the man deserved. Louis wanted him to say it so loud, the arsehole would hear it all the way in Chester.

“Love did I never tell you I’m hard of hearing? All those years of cannon’s blasting left, right and centre, I’m gonna need you to repeat-“

“Fine, fine!”, Harry giggled, sucking in a deep breathe. “My father is a absolute prick!”, He cheered, throwing his head back against the pillow with a grin full of liberation across his face. It was obvious he had wanted to do that for a long long time, like a bottle of champagne that had been waiting on a shelf to pop.

Louis rested his head on his palm with a satisfied expression. “Did that feel good?”

Harry smiled with maximum capacity back at him, breathless and sparkling. “Immensely”

Somehow that was was all Louis needed to hear.

“See, I’m a perfectly good influence.”

Harry was still smiling. “I should probably go to sleep now, before I’m further corrupted.”

“You did all the corrupting yourself there, love.”

It was only when another clap of lightening struck outside and sent Harry’s eyes darting that Louis remembered that there was a storm going on at all. That Harry was only there because of the storm. He was only beside him because of an inconvenience, not because he necessarily chose to be.

He had to stop pretending that Harry had wanted this and he needed to get better at acting like he didn’t.

“Tell you what”, he started, “I’ll stay awake until you’re asleep and keep watch. If the boat starts sinking I’ll let you know.”

Harry pulled the covers up around his shoulders and sank down further, trying to conceal every part of himself, “Such a kind courtesy.”

“Unless you snore, in that case I’m leaving you behind.”

Harry snorted to himself. “I appreciate the warning.”

“My pleasure.”

Louis took that little exchange as their goodnight as Harry closed his eyes and the weather filled the silence. He had a feeling the worst of the storm was over as the Bluebird swayed sturdier on the water, no more thrashing about like she had been earlier. It didn’t take long for the rhythmic creak to rock them both into drowsiness. 

He was a man of his word however, so he didn’t let himself fall asleep until he was sure Harry was already. Even if his eyes stung with the strain of keeping them open.

And if he was keeping on closer watch on Harry than the thunder rumbling outside, nobody had to know that.

~+~

The boat was still as morning came. The violent tossing around experienced yesterday ceased to exist as Louis’ eyes flickered open and the sunlight glared through them. The whole office was lit up in a golden glimmer, the furious images of black roaring skies a distant memory. It really showed up the dust though, highlighting the shimmery layer resting on the shelves and whisky bottles.

He went to put his arm up to shield his eyes from the brightness only to find he couldn’t move it. He quickly became aware that he couldn’t really move at all. Something heavy and hot was all over him, and the mere realisation drew out a coat of sweat. 

He looked down at his chest to see a wild head of chocolate locks resting on it, tickling his chin softly as his chest rose up and down. His left arm was tucked under the body weight too, while both of the other boys arms lay haphazardly comfortable across Louis’ stomach. He could feel that their legs were locked together, the other person’s longer one hicked up over his hip, tangling up the sheets.

It took Louis an alarming few seconds to realise yesterday evening was not a dream after all. Unless he was still dreaming, which he very much could have been given that Harry, who a few days ago could hardly stay in a room with him for more than a few minutes, was now sprawled all over him. Harry ‘never shared a bed before’ who was currently clung to him like a baby squirrel.

So much for stay on your side.

Louis almost didn’t want to breathe incase the movement disturbed him. He knew it would eventually happen where Harry was going to wake up, scramble out of the bed, probably yell at him and there was a good chance of him getting slapped too. He didn’t mind though, he would take it if it meant this could last just a little longer.

Since when the fuck did he become such a sucker for morning cuddles? He considered that maybe it was only morning cuddles with Harry that interested him, but he was too tired to fight himself. Louis against Louis was exhausting. 

Then he heard rapid footsteps thundering down towards the office.

He threw his head back against the headboard. For fuck sake.

Niall exploded into the room, face flushed and out of breath. “Louis", he expired while gulping in air, "The girls are freaking out! Harry never-"

Louis thrashed his available hand in the air as quietly as possible with a coarse hushing sound, halting a bewildered Niall. That's when his wide gaze landed on the second slope molded out of the sheets, still sleeping soundly miraculously after the Irish lad’s outburst. Louis watched as the realistion slowly took hold of him until he looked even more confused than before.

“I’ll tell them he’s fine", he simply said, too shell shocked to make a smart comment. He wagged a dazed finger at Louis as he slowly backed out. "I better hear the story behind this before Perrie cuts your dick off.”

Louis got distracted from the thoughts of facing the wrath of Perrie Edwards by a sprightly breeze whistling through the back window. The wind and lashing rain from last night’s rucous must have loosened its screws holding the glass to the metal frame in place. The glass pane was flapping wildly with each little breathe from the sea air.

A stronger gust suddenly shot into the room, rattling the frame. Louis winced, already seeing what was about to happen before the scene itself unfolded. Niall had left the door slightly ajar. He tensed, agonisingly watching on as the wind quickly grasped the door and slammed it shut with crackled bang.

He felt Harry flinch at the sound. If Niall didn’t manage to stir him that certainly must have. Louis didn’t say anything, just braced himself for the impact that was Harry.

Nothing happened.

Huh.

Louis didn’t really know what to do now. Was he awake? Was he pretending not to be? Was he holding bated breathe just like Louis, waiting to see what would happen next? He knew Harry was an early riser. He was up every morning, far earlier than he ever did. It was unusual for him to be asleep for this long.

Maybe it was better this way, whether he was actually asleep or not. If he didn’t want to acknowledge this delicate situation, neither did Louis. Discussion made things complicated.

He pulled his arm out from under Harry’s side and slid his hand gently under his head as he lifted him off his chest. Even if Harry was actually awake and there was no risk involved in rousing him, Louis still handled him like fine china instead of roughly pulling himself from his hold like he normally would with his bed partners. Normally he could care less if they were awake or not, he would be kicking them out promptly anyways, or vice versa.

He laid Harry’s head down onto the pillow like it was the most precious thing he had ever carried, like he was laying a lily down onto the pond surface, before manoeuvring himself out of the bed.

As he threw on his shirt, coat and laced up his boots, he had a growing desperation to crawl back in under the sheets with Harry and stay there all day, which was beyond weird. It was just something about the way Harry looked so soft with his unruly strands breaking free from his bun, his expression calm and content as he was nestled amongst the white linens. The sun streaming in gave the whole image an almost unearthly glow, like a painting.

There was only one thought hanging in Louis’ mind as he regretfully slipped out with a sigh.

He was in definitely so much trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back! I know this chapter was very dialogue heavy (dialogue is one of my favourite parts of writing oops) but the plot LITERALLY skyrockets into space next two chapters so buckle up!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly I would like to apologise for the very long wait, but you get a nice long chapter in exchange by means of truce! End of year school stuff took up a lot of my time but I’m so excited this one is finally out! Enjoy <3 
> 
> P.S. 100 KUDOS!! THANK YOU

“Are we stopping in Morocco or Gibraltar? Morocco is probably the safer choice,” Liam mused, holding a map against the breeze, “The Gibraltar strait has been too busy for comfort the past few years, its too risky, what do you think?”

He glanced up to where Louis was standing at the bannister, looking down onto the Bluebird from the steering deck. “Louis? Are you listening?”

He huffed when once again he got no answer. He marched up to Louis, dying to find out what was so entertaining that was holding the captain’s attention. He rolled his eyes when he followed his line of sight and shoved the map into his chest. Louis snapped out of his daze, crinkling the paper that had been thrust into his arms and turned to a less than chirpy Liam.

“Can you quit longingly staring after Harry for one second please while we figure this out?”

 _Longingly staring_. Pffttt. Louis would laugh if he wasn’t about to jump at his own defence.

“Excuse me that is not what’s happening here. I’m simply just—“, he desperately tried to think of an adjective, “overseeing.”

Liam forehead was scrunched. “You pronounced ‘stalking’ wrong.”

Louis’ mouth fell open and he spun to face his first mate, feeling himself sweating slightly, “What, a captain can’t even enjoy the view of his own bloody ship now unless he’s _stalking_ someone?!”

Liam still didn’t look convinced, much to his annoyance. “There’s two people out on deck right now Louis. Unless you’re about to break the news to me that you and Zayn are having some alluded affair, there’s only one other person filling your eyes like that.”

“Filling my eyes?”, Louis scorned, popping his hip and leaning his arms on the railing. He wished Liam wouldn’t use his dumb metaphors right about now, his head was already all over the place. It had been a weird morning. 

“You know what I mean. You get this sort of glassy look, like they are the only thing you can see in the world. Everything else sort of fades away.”

Louis flitted over to Liam as his voice grew dreamier and wistful. Okay maybe he saw what the other lad meant. He was giving a very realistic demonstration, the theory literally materialising before his eyes as Liam too looked down at the pair. His deep chestnut eyes richened and his expression turned warm while he watched Zayn chatting with Harry.

Louis shook his head, a fondness creeping in for his love-sick puppy of a friend. How sappy. Louis usually prided himself on his lack of sappiness but the memories of yesterday and the morning’s events kept springing back into his mind. They had been lingering there the entire afternoon. Some parts kept replaying, mostly weirdly specific and unimportant things like Harry’s nose twitching when he talked. Louis wondered if anyone had ever told him he does that.

Again, it had been a weird day.

”He came from your room this morning”, Liam tossed out, his head tilted.

Here we go.

“Don’t waste your time looking into it”, Louis advised, not sure if he was assuring himself or Liam, “All that happened was he was scared by the storm and he didn't want to cross the deck to get to the girl’s cabin. That’s all.”

If only he felt as simple as he made it sound. He had known that the questions were coming. He inwardly winced just imagining what Harry was answering to the very same ones. That had created yet another problem of the Harry variety to add onto the rapidly growing list. He realised it actually mattered to him what the boy thought about him. 

Those kind of thoughts had been plaguing him the second he stepped foot from the office. Captain Tommo cared what somebody thought about him. 

Maybe he was dying. That was the only thing that made sense. This bundle of nervous energy he had been carrying around lately was his insides eating away at eachother. It would explain the irregular heartbeats too, the flushes of heat. It was the only explanation. He had some horrific, incurable disease that had reduced him to whatever mess he was presently. Louis had watched it happen before. There were only two things that made men go crazy in their own bodies like this.

Death and love.

He wasn’t scared of death, the latter however was a entirely different story.

“So did you offer for him to stay or did he ask you?”

Louis exhausted a dramatic sigh. “I had to do something Liam.”

That was a lie. He really didn’t have to do anything at all. Nobody forced the words from his mouth, in fact they had fallen quite easily. He couldn’t just tell Liam that however, so now he was lying to his first mate. Not ideal.

“Besides, it was all highly conservative”, he added for good measure, “He had the left side, I had the right. He’s the goddamn holy virgin Mary for crying out loud, we hardly touched off each other.”

Liam got quiet all of a sudden, though Louis had a feeling he hadn’t said everything he wanted to. That made two of them. 

They watched Harry bid his farewells to Zayn and glide over towards the infirmary. He was doing two classes a day now he heard, his usual one and then one for the people who were injured and holed up below deck. Apparently he wanted to make sure they were keeping up and still had the same chance as everyone else. Even if it baffled him as to why Harry was even trying so hard, he knew the crew appreciated the hell out of his efforts.

The crew was tight knit and hard to untangle for an outsider. Especially one from a different class level to everyone else. Luke had a hard time during his first few months given that he was the son of an insanely wealthy merchant. Sure, ever the optimists when it came to seeing the goodness in people, Niall and Liam were quite happy to take anyone into the fold. Everybody else however, not so much. Fuck the rich was kind of their goal with this whole little pirate escapade but Harry’s frustrating magnetism was too strong for even the grouchiest of Donny Rovers to resist.

“Just-“ Liam started up again, carefully choosing his words, “don’t mess around with him Louis. I don’t want to see either of you hurt.”

Of course because Louis was the big bad wolf that Harry needed to be protected from. To a degree, he couldn’t blame him for thinking that but there was more to it than that though. Liam had never been good at hiding his feelings, no way as good as Louis was. A part of Liam thought it was the other way around too. He thought perhaps that Louis was the one who needed to be protected from Harry.

He didn’t reply.

“Hey babe”, Liam greeted lovingly as Zayn stomped his way up the steps to the deck. When he got to the summit he collapsed himself onto his partner’s front.

“Im. So. Fucking. Tired”, he punctuated with small hammers of his forehead into his Liam’s chest, “got no sleep because of that fucking storm.”

Liam pulled back, the smallest tinge of worry painted onto his face as he cupped Zayn’s cheeks. He was such a worrier and when it came to Zayn, it was only worse. Louis felt like screaming he’s drowsy not dying but it would be no use. Louis knew he worried about him too only he didn’t show it as much. Louis didn’t like when his weaknesses were pointed out, it only made him more insecure about them. A captain shouldn’t have weaknesses.

Zayn pushed away his fretting hands groggily though he appeared much livelier when he turned to Louis, a raised eyebrow and a curious glint in his eyes. “Care to explain to me why Nialler walked in on you and Harry spooning this morning?”

“I knew it!” Liam gasped.

“We were not spooning!”, Louis hit back, throwing out is hands widly.

“Niall said you were spooning.”

“Niall exaggerates things! He just- moved around in his sleep and landed on top of me.”

“Right”, Zayn drawled, “and Liam’s tongue just happened to fall down my throat last night.”

Liam swatted him on the shoulder with a shocked open-mouth smile while Zayn looked up at him, muttering “what?”

Louis threw his head into his hands, banishing the image he had unwillingly conjured to the depths of his soul, “Z, I could have gone my whole life without hearing that sentence.”

“Is he staying again tonight?” Liam asked, both of them blinking at him expectingly. 

“I don’t know”, he replied, sounding sulkier than he meant to, “We didn’t talk about it.”

“What did you two talk about then?” Zayn inquired, his voice edging more seriously. “You spent the whole night together, is there anything you need to fill us in on?”

“Since when did you two become my chaperone’s!?” Louis snapped, quickly overwhelmed by the two pairs of brown eyes trying to take apart his thoughts and inner workings. He felt exposed and he hated it. “Can I not have private conversations anymore without letting you know?” 

“You get defensive when you’re anxious”, Liam added cautiously.

“Im not-“, he paused, taking in a deep breathe realising the volume his voice had risen to, “There’s nothing going on so there’s nothing you need to know, okay? Like I said, the storm got rough and it was nothing more than a favour. Can we drop it now?”

“The reason you want to drop it is the reason we have to talk about it Louis”, Zayn rationalised with a sigh, “Listen, I like Harry, I do. I know I had my doubts about his intentions but he has a good heart and I wouldn’t be here without him. However we can’t just look past the fact that we really know nothing about him. You know that too, you’re just choosing to ignore it because of your whole, “don’t judge people on who they were in the past” attitude. That only applies to people who aren’t sleeping in your bed with you Louis. Whatever this is you have with him...”

“Zayn dont even go there-“

“Don't tell me not to go there when I saw one of Cowell’s rings on his hand yesterday!” Zayn challenged with a sudden outburst, silencing the heated back and forth.

Louis’ jaw locked in place as he fought to answer him, to shoot him a reason but the truth was he didn’t have one. He wished he knew why. He wished in the moment he had thought about what he was doing but that was the thing when it came to Harry. Louis didn’t really think about the consequences until after.

“If it was anybody else I would have thought they must have stolen it from your desk and were dumb enough to wear it”, Zayn carried on, “but when he told me that you just gave it to him? I believed him.”

He jabbed a finger at Louis, not aggressively but definitely vigorously. “You can’t claim Harry is the same as any other passenger you have brought into this crew when you do things like that Louis. He isn’t a washed up navy boy looking for a new lease of life that you’ve taken pity on. You _know_ this is different and you know you treat him differently.”

Louis looked down at his hands crisscrossed over the railing. Deep down he knew what Zayn was saying wasn’t anything new, he was just digging up everything Louis had tried to bury. Zayn was just pulling out the pieces from the dirt, dusting them off and making him look at them.

“Does any of this really matter?”, he finally said, sounding more defeated than defiant now, “This isn’t a long term issue. He’s only here for a few more weeks and then whatever his problems are are still his problems and we go our separate ways. Have we all forgotten about that?”

A small smile came to Liam’s face. “I think Harry has forgotten that himself.”

Louis was about to ask what that meant when Niall came galloping up the steps, blonde tresses swept back loosely. He looked between the three of them.

“You two asked him already didn’t you?” He accused incredulously. Liam scratched the back of his head and gave a non-committal shrug as an answer. “I told ye not to ask without me! What did he say about the spooning?”

Louis groaned loudly and slammed his head into his arms on the railing. This was going to be a long day.

He was right. 

He never really saw much of Harry during the day anyways, both working on their own ideas but it seemed more obvious today. He’d catch Harry glancing his way from across the ship every now and then before going back to whoever he was talking to or whatever he was doing. Of course the only reason Louis noticed this in the first place was because he was doing the same thing. 

He wanted to say something, he really did. He didn’t even have the desire to tease him, not at all. Harry was bright and growing more in confidence each day but Louis got the idea that he didn’t hand over his trust very easily. Last night he had given a lot of it to him. Louis hadn’t asked for his trust or even set out to earn it but he had it now and he had to take care of it. The last thing he wanted to do was break it for a cheap jab. Harry wasn’t cheap. 

The only time of day the whole crew was together was for food at night. They’re infuriating little glancing game was persistent, Louis at the top of the table and Harry talking closely with Niall near the end. It was very distracting, trying to somehow hear what had him listening so intently to him over fifty rowdy men while also not obviously doing so. Zayn had made him more conscious to his actions. He hadn’t deterred him necessarily, just highlighted how poorly he’d been hiding them. Louis wasn’t known for his carelessness. It made the whole thing all the more concerning. 

Right now though, Harry was having a conversation that Louis wasn’t a part of and that seemed more important.

He stood up, casually slipping past and down along the table to wear he was sitting, hoping he could ask him for a word finally. By the time he got there, Harry had disappeared.

Shit

“He said he had something to finish up before tomorrow”, Niall filled in, peering at Louis and seeing right through him. He stuttered on his tongue for a moment, his complexion tinging at how easily Niall had read him.

Something shifted inside of him when the realisation that had been chasing him all day inevitably hit him. Harry wasn’t waiting for him. He wasn’t waiting for Louis to tap him on the shoulder like Zayn did to Liam when he gets sleepy to say he was heading to bed. No. Harry was probably already asleep back in his hammock, not sparing a thought to the disappointment he had caused.

Disappointment. Louis hadn’t felt proper disappointment in years. He had learned it was better to break every hopeful bone in his body, that way he couldn’t be disappointed when life eventually fucks him. Yet as he plodded down the stairs to his quarters sometime after, that was the only way to describe the heaviness inside. He gave a self-pitiful sigh and turned the handle, preparing himself for the cold and quiet emptiness that was somehow warded away yesterday.

But it wasn’t empty. 

Louis halted with his hand across the handle. Harry was glowing like an apparition in the candlelight, one foot crossed over the other in the middle of the office. His copy of Romeo and Juliet was clasped in his hand. A halfhearted smile pulled on his lips as he tucked hair behind his ear. 

“Left my book here", he pointed out, rather obviously. 

Oh. He came to get his book back. That was all. He came for his book and then he was leaving. The soaring feeling Louis had allowed to fly dropped like a ball of lead. 

It was fine.

He was just about to step aside to let him pass when Harry spoke up.

“However, it is known to be bad practice to only read someone half a story.”

When Louis looked upwards, he saw it again. A desperate voice trying to speak but only through the changing light in his eyes as he searched Louis’. They were dancing in front of him, flashes of green like a leaf in the wind, twisting and twirling. He was never going to ask Louis but he could show him, just like this. 

Louis stood there almost numbly as his mind tore itself up with a million different responses to what Harry was trying to say. Harry wanted to stay with him. Harry was choosing to stay with him. It wasn't an accident or a fraud or a mistake, yet at the same time it was never supposed to happen. Letting Harry into his room in the first place was never supposed to happen because Louis wasn’t sure if he could stop it there. He didn’t know if he was strong enough to stop Harry from getting any closer.

“That’s right, we got cut short last time”, Louis said calmly, doing his best to hide his confliction from both from himself and Harry. “You’re alright with possibly getting stranded here again though if there’s another storm? The sky looks pretty dark to me.”

“I am certain that would be because it’s the middle of the night Louis”, Harry replied, expression alight with amusement. 

Louis breathily laughed and all at once the world felt lighter now that Harry was here. His world appeared lighter too. All the worries he’d been harbouring that day melted away at the sight of the very cause of them all. “Nothing gets past you does it love?”

“Heyyyy”, Harry droned.

“However you can never be too certain of things. One piece of life advice for you; always be suspicious.”

Harry sat himself on the desk, splayed palms pushing his shoulders up. “Should I be suspicious of you?”

“You’re the cryptic one out of the two of us don’t you think?”

For a second Louis let himself imagine that that was all it took. Harry would suddenly confess all of his secrets to him and that would be it. Zayn was right about one thing. Louis really didn’t know anything about him, which he had different feelings about.

He was grateful in a sense, considering how strongly he had found himself latching on to even the little things Harry let the world see. The more insights into himself that Harry showed him the more powerful he took hold. Another part of him was aching, burning with a insatiable need to find out more. Anything to help him piece the puzzle together. Anything that would help him explain the boy in front of him and what he was doing to him.

“Maybe you should keep an eye on me then”, Harry replied instead, looking up through his lashes.

Louis hummed in agreement, resting his weight against the doorframe. “You know, I’m not a troublemaker or anything...”

“Of course not.”

“But I have heard that most scandalous behaviour happens during the night. Perhaps it would be best if I kept you close, for observational reasons obviously.”

Harry nibbled coyly on his pinky finger as a smile grew on his face and Louis wondered how this was real. How he had ended up in this situation that he had managed to keep away for near eight years. This situation that he swore to himself he would never get washed away in. He wasn’t certain that Harry was real at this point. Maybe a symptom of his mysterious illness was delusional visions because whenever the boy was around, Louis tended to lose touch with reality. He let himself dream. 

“Purely for observational reasons, obviously”, Harry relayed back to him, face twitching with things he was withholding, “and to answer your question, no I don’t mind”

“Don’t mind what?”

“If I was to get stranded here”, he clarified. “With you.”

Louis felt the air be knocked from his lungs as he scrambled to suck it back in and keep his composure. He shouldn’t have been so affected by that or at least he couldn’t _show_ that he was so affected by that. “Did you just admit you actually enjoy being in my company?”

Harry’s mouth twisted before he answered, his fingers pattering on the desk. “Your bed is comfortable.”

Louis blew out a laugh. “That’s the only reason, is it?”

“The one and only”, Harry nodded with a slight swing of his feet and a curl in his lips.

Louis came to a conclusion during his second morning wrapped up with Harry that if he was actually dying, it wasn’t the worst way to go. He could let Harry be his forbidden dream for a little longer before he had to wake up. 

~+~

Harry dug through his case as quietly as he could as he knelt on the floor of Louis’ office. He didn’t move it there himself, scared of feeling far too presumptuous. When he came to Louis’ room for the third consecutive night to find his belongings plopped by the bedside it, he suspected it had been the girls. He was sure if Leigh Anne was confident in her writing skills there would have been a teasing note placed on top.

He had apologised profusely to them for the first night and their subsequent freak out that he had been carried off the side of the boat in the wind. After he got attacked with some worrisome hugs, they were full of questions. He told them what had happened and they glanced around at each other, smug eyes and knowing smiles giving away their unconvinced attitude. Harry wasn’t fully convinced himself.

After the second night there stopped being an excuse to stay. The current that pulled him towards Louis’ office in the first place only got stronger and stronger and he found himself preferring to drift along with it then fight against it. He was so used to fighting and putting a shield up, it was second nature to resist. He hadn’t realised how magical it felt to let go and float in the tide for once. It had a habit of taking you just where you want to go without even knowing.

Nothing had progressed past the casual disposition he had entered with five days ago but they had settled into a sort of routine. He was still fully clothed each night, making him feel severely overdressed beside always must-be-shirtless Louis. It wasn’t that he was self-conscious or prude but things like that just felt different around Louis. Louis already made him feel naked enough.

Neither of them ever mentioned how for the past five mornings they had woken up in each-others arms. The first time it happened he was too shocked to even react. Shocked at how his subconscious had betrayed his personal precautions but mostly shocked at how nice it was.

God, it felt so nice not to be alone. The warmth, the closeness, the peace as the early rays tickled their skin. Never in his life had he felt so cared for, cared about. He knew he shouldn’t have been in such silent hysterics over the little sentiment. Normal people did this sort of thing, be close and familiar, without any significance. It was just human nature but nothing about the life Harry used to lead was natural. They were both highly aware it happened but it was just part of the routine now. Harry pretended to be asleep and Louis pretended he didn’t know that.

Even if it was youthful ignorance to think it meant as much to Louis as it did to him, the intimacy of the small moment became intoxicating to Harry. Being a part of Louis’ world became intoxicating.

He looked over to the captain, who was still asleep. It was unusual to catch him so peaceful. The shadow of his lashes lay along his cheekbones, his skin catching the sun. Harry had tried to not let Louis’ looks influence his thinking but as time went on, he felt less guilty about admiring them. He had come to notice the more gentle gorgeousness about him, even with his darkly tattooed arm lying atop the pillow. He had found himself studying them when only the sound of their timid breathing filled his mornings. 

It gave him an idea. He should have been practicing his art anyway, Ales would have killed him by now having gone weeks without doing a single drawing. He pulled out his diary and pencil, his eye drawn to the last entry he wrote the day before.

_‘I do believe my sanity may be fragmenting, or perhaps oppositely I am going through an enlightenment of sorts. Is there any notable difference? I feel as though with each passing day and unspoken morning, I see more and more of the captain. Parts that I very much find fuel a wild interest and that I have rarely come across in anyone I have ever met. He is unlike anyone I have ever met. I fear my curious soul shall not withstand.’_

He shook his head mildly and folded the notebook so that the page was hidden, climbing onto the end of the bed and folding up his legs. He hardly ever reread his diary entries. He found himself cringing at how dramatic they were far too much of the time. That particular one however, he repeated it over and over again all of last night. It was the first thought in his mind when he awoke with Louis’ arm around his waist. As he sketched the slope of Louis back and shoulders, it was running through his mind relentlessly with each stroke of the pen.

Even as he drew he was finding more and more things he liked about the boy or rather man in front of him. Louis had mentioned he was only three years his senior at twenty one but he lived and breathed like he was a lot older. Harry noted it in the strong lines of his arms and hands, weather-beaten with fading scars. Louis liked to pretend as if he was immature sometimes, but Harry knew a mask when he saw one. He grew up in a masquerade ball.

Louis had a side to him that was almost nocturnal. It hardly ever appeared during the day while he strutted around his ship, ever the bold and proud captain he was rumoured to be. When the show was over however and it was just the two of them, he was almost well, sweet. He loved to listen which was somewhat surprising considering how much he loved to talk. He gazed deeply into at you as you spoke, taking in and caring about each word. He only ever interrupted Harry while he was reading to give his ‘educated opinion’ on how Romeo and Juliet were poorly managing their crisis. In a ridiculous way, it was sweet.

Harry thought about it as he drew the gentle slop of his nose and the dip in his waist that disappeared under the sheets.

He didn’t even realise he was smiling to himself until he felt it in his cheeks, distracted by the faint scratching of pen on paper.

The next time he looked away from his page louis was blinking languidly back at him. The shock of blue made his heart leap but he tried not to show it. He hastily went back to etching in some smaller details.

“Morning Lou” he said, the nickname slipping out. It wasn’t the first time. Harry swore to never opening his mouth ever again the first time he said it but Louis had just shook his head with a smile and muttered the little endearment back to himself. He didn’t seem to mind it, so Lou kind of stuck.

Louis grumbled and ran a hand roughly across his face. He stretched his arms up over his head, bones and joints popping into place for the day.

“Wait, don’t move for a moment!” Harry requested, scribbling quickly.

“Curly” he began, voice gravelled with sleep. It was madly attractive. “I would gladly go back to sleep and volunteer myself as your little subject all day but duty calls.”

Harry pouted as Louis broke his pose completely and got up out of the bed. He held back his diary at an arms length to examine his final product.

“Zayn may have informed me that we were docking today”, he mentioned around the pen in his mouth, twisting and turning his drawing.

“You and Zayn are best buddies these days huh?”, he asked, intrigue lining his tone.

Harry shrugged one shoulder. “We share a lot of common pursuits. I spend extra time with him after class to help him regain ground on the others but he’s doing exemplary. He’s really taken to it quite well so I have no qualms with the head start. We are docking though today, aren’t we?”

“Blue, block your ears”, Louis jokingly warned as he pulled on his boots, “Harry’s bored of you already.”

Harry dropped his jaw and petted the wood of the ship affectionately. “I said no such thing. Don’t heed his nonsense Blue, I could find no grander vessel in all the world. I simply am in dire need to stretch my rather plentiful legs further than back and forth across your lovely deck.”

Louis rolled his eyes lightheartedly. “The plan is to hopefully reach Morocco pretty soon and then we can spend one or two nights there, stock up and relax a little. Drunken arguments, accidental stabbings, the works. Then it should only be a couple more weeks til we hit your destination.”

Harry hadn’t been thinking about Italy very much. He’d been so preoccupied settling into his new life on the Bluebird he hadn’t had much time to ponder on what came after. The mystery of what was waiting for him there. He should have been happy, relieved he was finally soon going to be where he always wanted to be, no matter the circumstances. Alessandro clearly had a plan for him, he was supposed to be brimming with anticipation.

And yet.

“Before we get there though”, Louis heaved with a final tug of his second boot. He’d rather wrestle with them every morning than untie and re-tie them again, “I’m gonna lay out some ground rules.”

Harry dropped his diary in his lap. “Rules? Am I not the teacher on this ship?”

“Trust me love, reciting the abc’s is _not_ gonna help you in Salé port.” He pointed a finger in the air, “Number one. No more than five feet out of my sight. It’s very easy to get lost there and that’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Reasonable”, Harry concurred. 

“Number two. Be careful crossing streets. Salé has no rules when it comes to public safety, it’s a walk at you’re own risk type of situation.”

“Look both ways, I think I could manage that.”

“Number three. People offer you food on the street. Don't eat it. People talk to you on the street. Don't talk to them. People try sell you something on the street...?” Louis trailed off, enticing Harry to complete the sentence. 

“Don't buy it.”

“Good boy”, Louis winked.

Harry rolled his eyes and tilted his head down, willing away the silly tingling feeling that gushed through him. He blamed it on the morning restlessness.

“Number four.”

“There’s more?”, he squawked, head shooting back up, “How incompetent do you believe me to be?”

Louis ignored him. “In light of recent events, be careful with your drink. You handle it like a twelve year old.”

“Are you done?” Harry deadpanned.

Louis took a long winded bow. “C’est fini.”

“I didn't know you speak french?” 

“I don’t.”

Harry laughed and gasped playfully. “Mais Louis, ton français est fantastique!”, he said, accompanied with a highly expressive accent.

“I heard Louis and fantastic in the same sentence so I’m going to have to agree with you.”

Louis was just about finished dressing which meant Harry could actually make comfortable eye-contact with him now without fear of straying away from his face. If anyone back home knew he was sleeping in bed with a half naked pirate every night he would be the gossip of town, gossip of the country even. He thought about what people at home were saying about the mysterious disappearance of prince Maxwell’s intended or if the crown had even made it public. It made him feel utterly outrageous in the most delightful way possible.

Harry looked down at what he himself was wearing. He was thankful the weather was warm so he could wash and dry what little clothes he had to make them last. They were starting to look shabby now however, certainly not something he’d usually wear to go out in public. There wasn’t many things in the aristocratic life Harry did enjoy but he did like fashion.

“Should I dress for the occasion?”

Louis paused from buttoning up his shirt and glanced up. “Absolutely not.”

Harry wasn’t expecting such a vehement answer. “You are just abounding with compliments today aren’t you?”

“Lets just say that this here”, he gestured, waving his hand around Harry’s entirety, “doesn’t exactly blend in as it is. We don’t need to attract more attention.” 

“Why”, Harry queried with a mischievous lilt, “trying to keep me to yourself?”

“Trying to keep you alive mostly.” Louis deferred, yanking on his belt to fit the buckle as he strode over to him.

Harry bent his neck to look up at him. “It seems I have landed myself with the most moral and high-principled captain on the water.”

“Don’t go around saying things like that Curly”, Louis disputed with a smirk, “I have a reputation to keep.”

Louis leaned over his shoulder, his gaze falling on Harry’s drawing. They fell silent as he analysed it. It felt odd showing somebody else his work, especially letting the subject himself look at it. 

“Did I capture your aforementioned reputation?” He asked, tilting his head as he gaged Louis’ reaction. His expression was mellow as his eyes traced over the lines, seeing himself through Harry’s eyes. 

“Oh yeah, that bed hair is incredibly threatening”, Louis remarked, fluffing a hand through it a few times in an effort to get it into some sort of shape. 

“I assure you I’m trembling at the sight”, Harry said through giggles, restraining himself from reaching up and fixing it himself. He found himself doing that a lot lately. Stopping himself where Louis was concerned. It was tiring him out. He was worried he would eventually give in and start something he didn’t understand the repercussions of. 

“I should probably get out there before Liam comes for me, we slept in.”

“You mean to say that _you_ slept in”, Harry corrected.

“That’s a technicality.”

They stayed like that for a held breath, Louis gazing down into his eyes quietly. He wondered if Louis was stopping himself too, holding back the words and the questions and touches because told himself that he should know better. 

Or maybe he wasn’t at all. Maybe to Louis he was just another sad lonely boy that could warm his bed at night. Harry may not be experienced but he wasn’t naive enough to think he was the only person Louis had ever confided his midnight thoughts in, the only person he had ever held against his chest in the morning. It was true that he was seeing parts of Louis he didn’t think were there before but he couldn’t lose his reason in exchange for them.

He turned away first, clamming up his diary. “Okay, I’m sure I’ll reacquaint with you later.”

He relaxed a little when felt Louis step away behind him. “Be ready in about fifteen minutes for the port, I doubt we are too far away by now”, he instructed, grabbing his hat on the way out.

As soon as Louis left the room, it dulled. The colours seemed drained and the air was left stagnant and he didn’t want to be there anymore. Harry had felt this growing need to be in the captain’s presence, everything seemed more enhanced when Louis was around. He felt more things when Louis was around. It was becoming an addiction. An attachment. 

It was a horrible fate to get attached to temporary things.

He dragged himself off the bed and put on fresh clothes, his mind keeping him company. They were about to reach the half way point on his journey but he felt like he had just got the hang of this. He felt like things were finally going good for him, maybe better than ever. He had a purpose in a job he really liked and no expectations to live up to. Nobody was looking over his shoulder and criticising his every move. There were absolutely no prospects of marriage being shoved onto him. He had real friends that actually cared for him.

He had Louis.

He had a life on the pirate ship and he was beginning to like it too much.

With this realisation there came a surge of the shame and festering guilt he had been disguising. Nobody knew who he really was. Nobody knew about his birth titles, his betrothal to Prince Maxwell, where he came from. They didn’t know anything, they didn’t know the danger Harry had potentially put them in and it was eating away at him. He couldn’t count all the times over the last few days where he promised himself he would tell Louis. However now that he and the captain had grown into their unique little circumstance, Harry was too scared to lose it. Too scared to lose the feelings he had never really felt before he even knew what they were.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the bell announcing they were coming up to land. He quickly combed through his hair to untangle any knots that had developed during the night before surging out the door, excited to see the shores of a foreign land. Being surrounded by endless rolling blue for weeks on end had it’s niche quality. 

He ran up into the open sunlight, hot air sticking to him immediately as he spotted the north coast of Africa. He had never travelled this far from England, he felt like he was on another planet. The sand and the brick of the coastal buildings was almost orange, baked by the sweltering sun. He was practically hanging over the front of the Bluebird to get a better look, his view distorted by the rippling waves of heat off the ground. He could already hear the bustling activity radiating off the port as they prepared to drop anchor.

He skipped down to where everyone was waiting, eager to get going. Liam was counting out the contents of his satchel for the hundredth time if Zayn’s face was anything to go by, the task made infinitely more challenging by Niall spitting out random numbers to throw him off count.

“Three.”

Twenty one.”

“Four.”

“Fiveteen three.”

“That’s not even a number- Harry use your teacher voice please”, Liam pleaded when he spotted him. Niall spun around, his focus off a haggard Liam for a grateful moment.

“How are we feeling Haz, your first day out in a pirate port! They grow up so fast”, he breathed sadly, pretending to wipe away tears.

Harry smiled at his friend’s antics. “I’m about to get the full pirate experience.”

Niall’s expression switched with a devilish spark. “Has the captain not been giving you the full pirate experience?” 

“Niall!”, he bleated with large, alarmed eyes as the Irishman exploded into laughter. 

“What’s Nialler going on about over there?”

Harry spun on his heel with a forced casual smile to see Louis fixing his sword into his belt, blocking out the chopping breaths behind him as Niall gathered himself. “Nothing intelligent, I assure you.”

“As per”, Louis jibed, looking between the four of them skeptically. “Ready to go then Curly?”

“Very much so.”

The street markets were like nothing Harry had ever experienced. If he thought Chester port at night was madness than Salé was pure insanity, even at midday. The streets were turned into a maze of tunnels as coloured sheets of fabric shaded the crowds funnelling through them. People were bartering and trading and buying and selling at every stall, each one bursting with sound, colour and flavour. He was in awe.

He found himself like a child in a chocolate shop, bright eyed and excited by everything he passed. Intricate carvings, glass art, embellished clothes and all sorts of things to eat. It was a different world. He had stood gawking at a camel for nearly five minutes until Louis nudged him forward gently with the promise of many more camels once they got thicker into the market.

Harry had picked up on that whenever the stream of people got particularly dense, he would feel a guiding hand go to the small of his back. The first few times he had jumped around to see who was potentially about to rob and or murder him but it would only be Louis. It was a little scary how fast the worry and panic dissipated every time he was met with the captain’s face. He quickly found himself immediately at ease with the small gesture of comfort and protectiveness. He had full confidence that if Louis was around, nothing was going to happen to him.

He trusted him. He trusted him a lot more than he thought was possible when they first met.

“Do we really need this many love?” Louis asked as Harry passed him another bag of spice from the stall. 

“Yes, Liam and Zayn’s anniversary is coming up and I want to cook something that hasn’t been stale since the middle ages.”

He continued rooting around for more chilli powder. Such an abundance of spices was rare and pricey in England. He was going to make the best of them while they were at his disposal. He had dabbled in cookery during the winters when there wasn’t much for him to do outside, even if it wasn’t expected for a Lord to cook.

“I don’t know about you lads but all this food talk has me starving!” Niall disclosed, practically salivating over some peppers that were being roasted in front of him. 

“Swifts?” Liam hinted.

“Where else?”

After ten minutes of getting distracted and manoeuvring between the shoals of people, Harry followed them to an arch. By them he meant Niall, Liam and Zayn. Louis was still comfortably behind him. The arch had blue and white mosaic tiles pressed around it in a pattern with a wooden sign saying “Swift’s” hanging down from it. He could tell why Niall was so excited. The smell wafting out of the place was incredible.

They led the way inside where there was a bar wrapping around an open courtyard, live music playing at the back. Louis sauntered in and Harry kept close by him, finding himself annoyingly clingy in the unfamiliar environment. Louis’ presence had hushed the commotion somewhat and Harry didn’t miss the glances that were thrown their way from every corner of the establishment from the other company. They were other pirate crews he presumed. He knew of course that Louis had some infamy but he had yet to really see it. Louis acted completely oblivious to it.

It was strange to see people view Louis like that, like he was someone to be wary of. Like a barrel of gunpowder rolling amongst the flames. Louis was clearly someone to be afraid of but Harry felt the exact opposite. He had never felt safer knowing Louis was beside him.

“I was beginning to wonder if Tommo and the boys had finally been caught by the mistress of fate.”

Harry shifted his gaze to behind the counter where he saw a woman, bent forward with her arms folded across the countertop. She certainly wasn’t moroccan with her honeycomb hair tied in a ponytail and clear blue eyes. She had a handkerchief tied over her head and a sharp, dark eyeliner that gave her a slightly intimidating edge. 

“A simple “I missed you” would have sufficed Taylor”, Louis suggested amicably before patting the wooden surface, “Five rums please.”

“Hey, I’m just surprised you’re not dead by now”, she said frankly, disappearing beneath the counter. A blur of cotton white hopped up in her absence, tail twitching back and forth furiously. Louis took two leaps back from the counter at the feline’s appearance. He had a twisted look on his face, almost sour as his nose scrunched and he kept his distance. 

“Louis doesn’t like cats”, Zayn provided, spotting Harry’s confusion, “Even though they’d be dead handy for keeping mice away on the ship.”

And he had the audacity to laugh at him over storms.

“Don’t tell me you’re frightened of a little cat, Lou, look at the darling!” Harry gushed, the cat strolling up towards them confidently. Harry had always loved cats. They had many of them scurrying around the stables back home to keep away mice and rats. More often than than not he had gotten in trouble for sneaking the kittens inside his bedroom. 

Louis stepped back further as the cat came closer. “It’s something in the eyes”, he shuddered beside him. “Olivia is especially evil, the unholy offspring of a demon and a very angry rabbit.”

“You invaded her privacy Tommo, what did you expect?”, Taylor stated, popping back up with five mini glasses and a rum bottle, “Cats are all about the personal space.”

“She rolled over like a _dog_ so how was I supposed to know cats don’t like belly rubs?”

“Everyone knows cats don’t like belly rubs Lou,” Harry interjected matter of factly, “How would you like it if I just waltzed over to you as a complete stranger and started petting _your_ tummy.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed”, Louis admitted with impish eyes. 

Harry should have expected that. He had gotten well used to Louis’ flirtations by now. 

He shook his head at Louis and went back to the cat who had stopped in front of them. She was sizing up Harry with eyes remarkably similar to Taylor. He could see the rabbit part as she strangely sat sort of upright on her back legs but was yet to see any evilness in the fluffy ball. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss. Olivia”, he greeted politely, leaving down and putting his hand out for her to inspect. Something with a name like Olivia couldn’t be too horrid right?

“Don’t get too close”, Louis warned, a hint of genuine concern in his voice, “she could rip your-“

The cat slinked up to Harry, bumping her soft head into his hand and inviting him pet her. Harry obliged, running his hand along the ridge of her back and fluffing her cheeks until she was purring underneath his fingertips. 

He looked over his shoulder to a dumbfounded Louis with a tight lipped smile. “Ah yes, characteristically demon-like behaviour.”

Taylor laughed and put a hand on her hip, looking at him affectionately. “What’s your name babe?”

“Babe”, he heard Louis tut lowly behind him. If Harry secretly screamed on the inside due to the jealous undertone, nobody had to know.

“I’m Harry”, he replied happily, scratching the top of Olivia's head.

“Well Harry”, she said pouring the bronze liquid into the row of glasses, “anyone that’s a friend of Olivia is a friend of mine.”

Louis’ quirked his eyebrow, “What does that make me then?”

Taylor pushed the drinks over to the boys with a smile and stretched her hand out, palm up. “A loyal, paying customer.”

The place started to fill up as more and more ships took refuge in the port for the night. Swift’s was clearly the place to be. The bar was packed and there was an electric buzz in the air and he could feel it within himself too. Unlike Ireland he couldn’t even blame alcohol this time because he decided not to have any. He thought maybe he was just finally feeling the thrill of truly enjoying life.

Over the course of their food Louis’ arm had managed to sneak around the back of Harry’s chair but he didn’t mind. He wasn’t groaning to himself, running through a million ways he could escape the unwanted advances he usually was forced to put up with. Entirely the opposite actually. He had caught himself leaning into it, laughing through whatever story was shared next and letting himself be swept away in the atmosphere. Maybe the amazing food had fogged his better judgement but he didn't care.

“What are you smiling at?”, Louis asked curiously, jostling his shoulder with his hand. 

You, he longed to say.

“Nothing, what are you smiling at?” he replied instead, seeing that Louis was indeed smiling lazily back at him. 

“Nothing.” 

“It seems we are both amused by absolutely nothing then.”

Louis chortled and took a pensive sip of his whiskey. “You’re really something, you know that?”

“As are you, if I may say so.”

“What’s the point of asking permission to say something after you’ve already said it?”

Harry propped his chin up on his hand thoughtfully. “Everybody loves a bit of rebelliousness”.

“Even you posh kids?” Louis teased, poking him lightly in the ribs.

Harry squirmed away from the ticklish sensation. “Especially us posh kids”, he breathed when Louis relented, “Who doesn't fantasise about a rebellious adventure every so often?”

Louis sat back, eyelids raised. “Oh yeah? Like what.”

Harry swung his eyes as he imagined. “Running off to Europe and joining a pirate ship certainly wasn’t one I thought would come to fruition and yet, I look around.”

Louis kept his calm eyes firmly fixed on him, his expression conveying something Harry couldn’t exactly pinpoint, “Seems like you’re living the dream then Curly.”

His words hung over Harry before he acknowledged them. “I suppose I am.”

It was terrifying in an exhilarating way, finding this part of himself again he thought had been broken. The part that his father had chipped away at with each failed attempt to mold him into somebody else or marry him off. The part that saw a life other than loneliness, a life filled with people, a life with a family he loved. A life with a family who didn’t want to change him and who would have him just as he was. 

He found that part of him again on the Bluebird, just as he was discovering new ones too.

“Haz?” 

Harry whipped around, turning back into the table from where he had been facing Louis at the sound of his name. Niall had his arm outstretched, passing him an empty red ceramic bowl. “Could you go up and grab more of these olives because you love me?”

“That’s your forth bowl Ni”, Zayn blurted in almost disbelief, an arm slung around an amused Liam.

Niall twisted towards him, mild offence tainting his features. “That is _not_ the question I remember asking.”

Harry laughed and took the ceramic bowl out of his reach. “I will get you a fifth bowl if you so wish Niall, no need to fret.”

“I so wish”, Niall copied, giving Zayn a smug glance. Zayn almost shoved him off the chair. 

He felt a delicate hand brush against his own as he went to stand up, the spark jolting through him instantly recognisable. “You sure you’re alright to go by yourself?”

“I’ll be fine Lou”, Harry consoled with a newly sweetened smile, “I’m feeling brave tonight”. Normally he didn’t like people who thought he was in need of protection or thought he needed to be rescued by a knight in shining armour. He didn’t feel like that with Louis. It didn’t seem like he was trying to underestimate or undermine him or make him out to be helpless. In contrast, he actually gleefully indulged in the idea that Louis was watching out for him, that he occupied a little space in Louis’ mind.

“Call me if there’s any trouble at the bar”, he added as a last note of caution, dropping his touch. Harry cursed himself for already missing it.

“Unless of course they have whiskers and happen to meow, in which case I am on my own”, Harry teased over his shoulder, laughing into his chest when he heard Louis spout , “Oh, you’re definitely feeling brave tonight”, as he walked away.

Harry was feeling brave. Brave enough to admit to himself that this was more than just a passage to his future. He had always been so certain but now, fleetingly looking back at their table, he wasn’t so sure. He was struggling to cope with how he was going to say goodbye. He was struggling so much in fact that it highlighted a wild notion he’d been lunatic over. 

What would happen if he didn’t? 

What if he didn’t say goodbye to his one lesson a day? What if he didn’t say goodbye to his friends? What if didn’t say goodbye to blue eyes and tangled mornings?

He was getting closer to wanting to find out.

“Who’s this dickhead?”, Harry heard someone grumble beside him when he arrived up at the bar. At first he thought the burly, red-headed man was referring to him but when he snapped around, he was looking towards the arch doorway. Most people in the bar had turned their focus that way as a crowd of about fifteen men flowed in, almost uniformly. Harry stood taller on his toes to look over the heads to get a look at the slew of strangers who had wandered in.

The loud ambience of the bar masked the sound of the red ceramic bowl shattering on the ground as his heart stopped.

Standing under the arch in much more modest clothing than Harry remembered him in, was prince Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *SCREAMING INTENSIFIES 
> 
> Don’t hate me too much for that cliffhanger ending! <3 I hope you guys are enjoying the progression so and after this chapter, we’ll officially call it phase two of pining idiots.
> 
> Stay safe!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not going to lie, the pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack was a constant backing track while writing this chapter XD it took longer than I expected but I wanted to make sure I got the intensity of the emotions just right to the best of my ability. Whenever I put out something I want it to be the best quality for you guys :)
> 
> SOME NOTES;
> 
> Keep in mind that amounts of money valued in 1720’s would equally infinitely larger amounts of money in modern day times because of monetary value changes and inflation and all that fun economy stuff. So there is an amount of money mentioned in this chapter that may not seem huge by todays standards but would definitely have been back then.
> 
> The world is crazy right now and I hope everyone is okay and sticking up for what’s right during these testing times. Enjoy this little escape from reality my lovlies!<3

“Did anybody else here him say Lou?” Liam asked, once Harry was out of earshot.

“Shut up Payno”, Louis snipped. He was still swivelled in his seat and glaring daggers into anyone who dared drop their eye-line below Harry’s face as he pardoned his way through them. Luckily for them and their hanging tongues, some greater force had them searching to see where Harry had come from to find Captain Tommo setting them on fire with a stare. They quickly abandoned any ideas they had of chatting up the lad.

“But Lou, I think it’s unfair that only Harry gets to call you adorable nicknames”, Niall whined, “What about Loulou, Loubear, Loubug, Lou-”

“Do you want these to be your last seconds on earth Horan?”, Louis asked as he turned to him, deadly serious despite the snickers across from him.

“Excuse me for the interruption”, came a voice from the front, “I’m wondering if I could take a few minutes of time from all of you fine ladies and gentlemen.”

“For fuck sake”, Zayn cursed, lowering himself in the booth, “not this arsehole.”

Louis looked up and immediately understood why Zayn was so sour.

Prince fucking Tom and his crowd of navy weasels. Of course they had to ruin one of the best afternoons he had had in a while.

Louis manouvered himself closer to the wall to conceal himself. He was thankful now that they had chosen a corner table in a crevasse of the bar. It had been a few years since they last ran into eachother, which as one could imagine was never a pleasant experience.

They had given each other their fair share of scars and bruises. Louis wasn’t particularly looking for a new one right now.

It was a general consensus that royals and pirates did not get along. Prince Tom however, was a privateer. A fancy word for government employed pirate. He was allowed to play on both teams and he got away with it. He was a two-timing snake but nobody wanted the heat that would come with killing an heir to the British throne. 

He knew that too as he pranced around exuding shameless arrogance like it was armour. Prince Tom may be an arsehole but the thing that separated him from people like Louis was that Tom was an endlessly rich arsehole who the royal navy goons weren’t trying to kill in their spare time.

God, Louis hated his face.

The bar had gone dead silent with distain. Taylor threw a cloth down onto the counter and eyed the royal ferociously. “If you’re here for trouble you can leave.“

“I’m not looking for trouble I promise”, he said, holding his hands up as if he was innocent. “I’m rather looking for somebody actually, I was wondering if any of you would be of use in assisting me.”

“And what the fuck makes you think we would help you?”, someone yelled from the barstools. Louis could see this getting ugly very fast. He didn’t want any of them to be around when that happened.

“For the right price I bet you’d be more than happy to”, Tom stated, “and there happens to be a handsome reward up for grabs on behalf of his royal highness Prince Maxwell in return for your effort.”

Maxwell giving out a reward? Now that was unheard of. Louis wasn’t as well aquainted with Maxwell as he was his younger brother who was lording around in front of him but he’d heard enough to get the idea. 

It was almost cliché. The second oldest son who feels cheated out of success and power by his older brother. Ever since Louis was young there were rumblings of unrest between Maxwell and Nathaniel about who was more suited to run the grand old British Empire. The country had been on the brink of civil war for years at this point, split between supporters of each brother. Meanwhile Tom dressed up and played pirate.

Maxwell was greedy. If he was putting up a reward he must have really wanted something. Someone evidently.

“Now”, the prince said with a clap, “seen as you’re all listening. We are looking for a boy. We have reason to believe he’s been in the company of pirates for some time now. He went missing about three weeks ago. From Chester port we can only presume.”

Three weeks ago at Chester port.

Huh.

Bounty hunting wasn’t generally Louis’ area of interest. A lot of the time there was a good chance he and the Donny rovers were said bounty anyway. He had been more concentrated on trying to find and grab Harry’s attention up until then. He stuck out like a sore thumb in the rowdy bar yet he couldn’t spot him anywhere.

It was like he had disappeared when the prince had entered.

Louis blew some air out his nose and made himself take a step back. He was just being paranoid. Thousands of people moved in and out of that port and at least fifty percent of them were male by the rules of biology. It may have been oddly specific but it didn’t mean a thing.

The prince swaggered further into the courtyard which was dead of the vivacity it had a few moments ago. “He’s quite distinctive we’ll say. Brown hair that hangs in curls to his shoulders. Green eyes, pale skin with a tall, slim build. Seen him around?”

Extremely oddly specific.

Every organ in Louis’ body stuttered. His heart, his lungs, his brain. It was like they all stopped and started again when a new burst of anxious blood flow started coursing through him. His palms were itchy as the description burned itself into his mind.

Brown curls. Green eyes. Pale. Tall and slim.

His world felt like it was hovering, detaching itself from fact and fiction. There was no way. It had to be a coincidence. It had to be.

“Louis”, Liam began apprehensively, “that sounds-“

Louis clamped him shut with a raise of his hand. He needed to hear exactly what Tom was about to say next. He had never paid more attention to anything in his entire life. He knew what Liam was going to say. He knew what Niall and Zayn were thinking with their uneasy glances. Louis knew it himself as he did another frantic sweep in vain across the mass of intrigued faces.

That sounded a lot like Harry.

Louis tried not to freak out by telling himself that there were a lot of people who could look similar to Harry but that was a blatant lie.

“We just want the boy, unharmed of course”, Tom added for good measure, “then we shall be on our way.” 

“Who is he?” Taylor asked slowly. Taylor was smart. Louis was sure that she had the same inkling as he did.

If he was a weaker person he would have blocked his ears just then. If he didn’t hear the answer there was still a chance that he could have been wrong. 

The prince addressed Taylor with an award winning smile. “Harry Styles, son of Lord Desmund Styles.”

Oh fuck.

As soon as the prince said the words Louis knew it was true. Of course he was Harry Styles. Of fucking course he was. 

Everything added up so cruelly perfectly. His upbringing, his family, his father, the _fire_. The fire of Manchester castle as it was known. The fire that killed Lady Styles and lady Gemma. Harry’s mother and sister. The infamous Styles’ family lore all fitted in. All the clues had been dancing around in front of his face the entire time. They’d literally been sleeping with him.

There was no doubt that the Harry in question was definitely his Harry.

His Harry.

Oh _double_ fuck.

“I knew it”, Zayn uttered before Louis could process himself, “I knew there was something.”

Louis felt himself spiral into a whirl of screaming questions, mostly consisting of ‘how the hells’ and ‘what the fucks’. To demonstrate; How the hell could Harry have pissed off Prince Maxwell that much to warrant a continent crossing manhunt? What the fuck could he even have done? They were talking about someone who had gotten drunk for the first time in his life a few weeks ago. He didn’t exactly spell out international felon. 

“What kind of reward are we talking here?”, inquired the same guy who had looked like he wanted to disembowel the royal two minutes ago. 

“Five hundred thousand british pounds.”

Louis felt his heart surge into his mouth as men around him choked on their drinks. Five hundred thousand pounds. He could hardly formulate that figure into sense. Money like that wasn’t even possible.

Louis wouldn’t spend that in a hundred years, a hundred different lives. That was enough money to set people up for generations and then some. That was enough money to persuade people to do crazy things.

And all they had to do to get it was a find a boy with green eyes and curly hair.

Chaos ruptured while the prince watched on with smug delight.

Louis shot up out of his chair, looking for the nearest back exit. That’s where Harry must have fled from. Louis was guaranteed now that he wasn’t in Swift’s anymore. He probably slipped out the moment Tom had entered the building. He should have noticed. He should have been keeping a better eye on him. He was supposed to protect people, that was his job. He was supposed to protect him.

Somebody tugged back his arm before he got a chance to take off. 

“Where the hell are you going?” Zayn yelled over the frenzy of squealing chairs as the bar emptied.

“I have to find him. I have to before somebody else does”, Louis told him, unwavering. He didn’t know what was going on or what cluster fuck Harry had gotten himself into and he didn’t know what he would do with himself if something happened to him. 

He couldn’t let anybody else down. Not again.

Zayn looked like he was about to argue with him but when he saw the determination on Louis’ face, he knew he had already made up his mind. “If we are doing this, there is no way you are doing it by yourself.”

Now that was something Louis could argue on. “Not a chance Z, it’s too dangerous. Every lunatic in the city is going to be out there. You need to get everyone back to the ship. We need to leave as soon as we can. He couldn’t have gotten that far and there isn’t much time.”

“We can triple that time.” Liam insisted, backed up by an affirming nod from Niall.

Louis didn’t want to put more people in danger than he needed to but Harry was also in trouble. Was he about to ask himself if Harry was worth risking the lives of his three best friends? He knew there should have been an obvious answer but in the craze of the atmosphere, there wasn’t. The thoughts of Harry lost and scared in the foreign pirate port where God knows who could get their hands on him forced him to a decision.

“Fine”, Louis agreed reluctantly, “but we need to go, like now.”

“What about a plan?” Liam asked.

Louis secured his hat onto his head, making sure it was snug before they entered the mayhem. “My plan is to improvise the plan.”

~+~

Harry felt dizzy as he weaved through the market. People passed by him in blurs of colour and incoherent conversation. The white sun beating down on him kept him moving like a scolding iron rod poking into his back. He found that if he focused on putting one foot in front of the other it stopped him from falling to his knees and breaking down on the spot. 

Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot.

He didn’t need to think right now. Thinking too much would have him turning around. He wasn’t willed enough to resist the path back if he set eyes on it.

He was a fool. He was more than a fool. He truly had made himself believe that it wouldn’t catch up with him, that it would become nothing but a bad dream he could ponder over every so often. He should have known it was too easy. Freedom came at a price and up until then he had yet to meet the debtor. 

He shook his head and folded his arms in on himself. Walk, don’t think. 

The phrase rolled around his head as he trudged on, trying to stunt any urges that told him to go back, talk to them and figure it out. They wouldn’t want him. How could they? He had been too selfish and ignorant to admit to the danger he had led right to their doorstep. If Tom had caught up to him sooner, they would have been killed. There would have been nobody to blame but him.

He was better off by himself. That’s how it had always been, how it was always supposed be. He couldn’t hurt anyone that way.

His despairing daze was ended when a hand flew up over his mouth.

His wide-eyed cry was muted as a rough arm snatched him into a side-street. He was grasped around his middle from behind as he attempted to jump away. Harry felt his insides plummet as his feet were hoisted from the leverage of the ground. 

He thrashed furiously to break away from his attacker, scratching madly at their forearm to get them to release. He heard hissing over his shoulder as he dug his nails in but the grip strengthened if anything. The hand left his mouth to try pry off Harry’s clawing nails. He could feel his hips being bruised under his skin. There was no point calling for help. That would only be calling for more competitors.

Harry pulled his arm up and rammed it backwards with as much fear fueled power as he could manage. He heard a pained groan as the strong elbow landed in between the other man’s ribs and the grip around him finally slackened. He catapulted them both backwards into the wall, a sickening crack and a shout releasing him fully from the strangers hold.

Harry jumped around to see that his attacker had sagged himself down the wall, aching as he held the back of his shoulder. He could tell now that he was one of Tom’s men for sure and where there was one there would be more to come. He had to get out of there. Out of the port, out of Morocco. Maybe Italy, maybe not. He didn’t care anymore. He just had to go.

He spun on his heel to flee when he slammed into a solid chest, yelping as both his wrists were clutched and he was effortlessly tossed onto the hard stone pavement. Harry scrambled backwards with shaking hands at the sight of his new opponent. He was twice his size with a face like a rhino and the same subtle but recognisable uniform. Another one of Tom’s men.

“Fucking hell”, he grunted, stomping nearer with a yellow snarl, “you really are a feisty bitch aren’t you?”

He bent down with huge hands clasping Harry’s ankles and tugged him harshly back towards him. Harry tried to kick out but lifting his leg from the ground only made it easier for him to be pulled across the floor until the other man was monumental over him.

He pressed Harry flat onto the ground by planting a colossal boot square on his chest. Harry writhed around and tried to push the 100 kilogram pressure off of him but it was no use. He had him pinned. He could do nothing but take frenzied breaths while his attacker felt his hammering heart through the leather sole. 

“There’s a good lad”, he praised with a vile purr, “just relax a little.”

He leaned down with a twisted grin, resting his arm on his bent knee and putting his full body weight on Harry’s ribcage. Harry was suffocating under it. “Incase it slips my memory, I should thank you for the easiest five hundred grand I’ll ever make in my life.”

Harry’s mind was whirling. He needed an idea. Fast. His eyes darted down to his legs and back up to his attacker standing directly over him. 

Without another thought he swung his knee upwards and landed it straight in the other man’s groin, sending him buckling into a crippled, howling heap beside Harry.

Harry wasted no time in launching himself off the ground and tumbling away. He had just about reached the street entrance he’d been pulled into when an anxious thought suddenly struck him.

When he ran past, nobody had been at the wall.

As if on cue, the side of his head was being rocketed into something hard before everything went black.

~+~

The first sensation he felt as he came to was a throbbing pain puncturing the side of his head. The intense pulse of the blood rushing around his ears made him feel like he was underwater. His head was swimming as he strained his eyes open but eventually his surroundings began to stop sliding around his vision.

He was in what looked like an emptied gambling den, cards and pennies splayed across the tables dotted throughout the room. He gathered that the swaying outside the window wasn’t in fact due to his head injury but rather he was looking at boats bobbing up and down in the harbour. When he twisted to try get a better look outside, he found his arms tied ungently behind the chair and his ankles secured to the legs with coarse rope.

He grappled to remember how exactly he had ended up bound to a chair as he tugged on the restraints. He was still at the port evidently. It wasn’t possible he would be anywhere else. He could feel that the blood on the side of his head was still wet and fresh.

The events leading up to him being knocked out were left choppier in his memory. He remembered Swift’s. Sneaking out around when the prince started talking about rewards. Running into the market. Getting pulled into the side-street. The scuffle, the-

“Apologies for the headache but you were quite persistent.”

Harry froze at the unannounced voice. His gaze flitted around every corner of the room trying to find it’s ghost. He didn’t know that he wasn’t alone.

He heard footsteps creaking across the floorboards behind him. They got heavier and heavier until he could feel a shadow lay cool over him. It hung there for a moment, dark and ominous. His fingers curled into his palms as a hand ghosted across the back of his neck, his skin prickling under its threat. The hand trailed off his shoulder as the figure moved around and he was face to face with a person he never thought he’d see again.

Prince Tom grabbed the base of his chair and pulled it forward opposite Harry with a satisfied smile. “Though it is wonderful to see you again Harry.”

“I can’t say I return the sentiment”, Harry spat, glaring icily into him. He still had that same glint in his features. Harry hated it. It made him feel even more vulnerable. 

The prince’s smile cracked with short laugh, though there was nothing funny about it. “Now now, don’t be like that. We are family after all! I’m sure our trip back to london will give us plenty of time to get to know each other better. I have invested a lot of work into this little retrieval you should know. You almost sound ungrateful.”

Ungrateful. As if Harry should be grateful that they were making him marry a madman.

“Max will be utterly delighted to witness you in such good health. You gave us all quite the scare.”

“How did you find me?” Harry questioned, refusing Tom the cheery energy he was receiving. He was praying that they hadn’t traced anything back to Alessandro and tortured it out of him. Another person who could have been harmed because of him.

“I mean, Salé was my best informed estimate given the circumstances”, the prince said, drumming his fingers on the arm rest. “You wouldn’t just get on a ship at random, even for you that’s far too risky. No, you had a destination in mind and nothing would interest you in Asia or the Americas so it would have to be somewhere in Europe. Then I recalled your father mentioning your desire to train in the arts in Italy and well, I had a likely direction.”

Harry could see now why Tom was the one set on his trail. While Maxwell was impulsive and driven by rage, Tom was intelligent and undeniably cunning. He knew how to figure out people’s thought process and put himself in their shoes. It was a deadly skill.

“Now there are only a few main ports to stop in before the Mediterranean and well, it was a coin toss by then as to where you ended up but here you are! Don’t worry too much however, Max will be joining us shortly.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Max had to stay behind a few days, naturally. He had to postpone the wedding and well, the biggest event of the year takes a lot of organisation and subsequently a lot of dismantling. Obviously there were other matters to discuss with Lord and Lady Styles that had been disrupted by this little hurdle. We had to letter all of the other lords too, make sure your disappearance was kept quiet for now.”

“So he sent his little brother to carry out his dirty work?” Harry bit back.

Tom maintained his calm demeanour though Harry could sense he was getting tired of his impertinence. “He sent me because he trusts that I’ll get the job done.”

“What does this job normally pertain?” Harry asked suspiciously. Salé didn’t seem like the usual spot for wealthy socialites. Harry had a feeling this was intertwined with Tom’s mysterious pastimes abroad that everyone loved to surmise over.

The prince sat back in his chair. “I find people who pose as potential enemies to the crown. I’m not concerned with these measly little port plunderers but they have their value. Pirates talk and pirates travel. They have a lot of names and a lot of whereabouts. Fortunately enough, what they don’t seem to have are loyalties. They help me weed out the sharks so all the little fish can feed. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship you see.”

“Not for the sharks.”

The prince rattled his finger at him with a smirk. “You always have the clever answers, don’t you?”

“I’m merely observant.”

“If you’re so observant I’m sure you spotted the light in their eyes when I got around to mentioning the chance of reward money don't you think?”

Harry didn’t want to picture the people he had grown so close to. He didn’t want to imagine their faces and what he might have seen. Betrayal. Shock. Fury. He could live with that. It tore him up inside but he could live with it. What he couldn’t live with was the thought that if he hadn’t ran, they’d have given him up.

They wouldn’t have. He begged himself to believe at least that. He needed to hold onto something. He had nothing else. 

“You weren’t naive enough to think those people truly cared about you, were you?” The prince provoked when he noticed Harry’s silence, “That you actually mattered to whatever band of scum you’ve been mingling with?”

Harry kept his eyes pinned on the royal as he stood up and began to stalk the room. He couldn’t let him get to him. Once people like Tom saw a wound on the surface, they attacked.

“I presume the crew welcomed you into their camaraderie” he began, gesturing absentmindedly with his hand, “made you feel like you belonged there. Made you feel like they accepted you, like you had purpose and that you meant something. Did they do that Harry? Am I right?”

Harry refused to look away even as he felt his throat constrict and tears spike in his eyes. They couldn’t have faked it all. At least some of it had to have been genuine otherwise he wouldn’t be so destroyed at the thought of never having it back. Niall’s anecdotes at dinner or whenever he interrupted class with his laugh. Zayn lovingly teasing Liam while everyone around them rolled their eyes. The girls smothering him with worried hugs and kisses after the night of the storm. Those things had to have been real, hadn't they? 

“And not to mention the captain.”

Louis.

Harry’s intensity instantly faltered, his lips parting with a stopped breath and eyes flickering. He tried to conceal it but it was too late. The royal’s face brightened manically and he latched onto it. 

“Oh I bet the captain was so fond of the lovely little stray he picked up at the port. He saw you, so sheltered and impressionable and so very desperate and he took advantage of that didn’t he Harry? Did he make you feel special? Did he make you feel special to him?”

Harry’s eyes fell shut for the first time. Maybe if he couldn’t see the prince twisting the knife it would hurt less. It was all mind games. He was trying to get inside his head, dig into his insecurities and his doubts. Trying to make him panic and rethink. That’s what people with wealth and power did. They tried to gain control over other’s thoughts to suit their own agendas until nobody could think for themselves anymore.

Tom prowled forward though never raised his voice. “Captains are always the charming type aren’t they, with that young and untameable appeal. I suppose you imagined you had found a kindred spirit, thrilling you with splendid stories and the warranty of adventure.”

The prince paused in his stride, long fingers smoothing down the peak of his chin.

“Or perhaps he was nice and soft with you, lulling you into trusting him. Affectionate even. Did little Harry fall for it? Did you fall right into his trap?”

Harry gritted his teeth, trying to close off his mind. Louis wasn’t a trap, he was the opposite. Louis gave him a chance. He gave him back his voice to be listened to. He gave him a space where he could indulge in what he loved and even share it with others. He gave him a companionship and a human connection that he had never allowed himself to have before.

Louis gave him everything he could have wanted.

It killed him more than anything that he hadn’t seen that sooner. He was in pain trying to hold back the sobs over everything he had found then lost so suddenly.

He felt fingertips stroke down his arm and his eyes flew open. That wasn’t what Louis’ touches felt like. Not at all. Louis’ touches left him with a pang of repressed longing in his chest that yearned for more. He had never admitted it like that before but in contrast to the prince’s which made him recoil into himself, it only made the difference more obvious.

The prince continued caressing despite Harry’s obvious discomfort. “You can trust me. You can tell me who it was. You can tell me who lured you onto their ship in Chester. How he stole you from your home and-“

“We both know that’s not what happened”, Harry said coldly, fixing his eyes forward. 

“Well actually, that is what happened”, the prince replied, “That’s what everybody believes, so we need to keep it that way. That’s the story in all those letters your father wrote tell of. Knowing you and what you’re like, he didn’t want people to get the impression that you- oh I don’t know, _ran away_ or anything preposterous like that.”

Harry swallowed thickly as the prince plucked a water-beaten piece of paper from his pocket. He cleared his throat, unfolding the browned page in front of him.

“It is with deep regret and a sorrowful hand that I must write to inform you all of the tragic kidnapping of my son, Lord Harry Styles of Cheshire.”

“Stop”, Harry croaked. He didn’t want to hear it. It was all act. His father wasn’t sorrowful for what happened. He and Lady Angela had wanted Harry gone for a long time, only this way they couldn’t profit from his loss. The only person his father was sorrowful for was himself.

The prince didn’t give him even a glance. “He informed me the morning of his anticipated transport to London that he was going for a walk along the coast before the journey-“ 

“That’s not-“

“Where he was grabbed by vicious barbarians and taken-“

“Stop it!”, Harry pleaded, beginning to feel sick in his stomach. It wasn’t true. They weren’t barbarians. They hadn’t taken him. It was all wrong. Everything was always wrong and he had to go back to it all. He had to look at them again and watch them lie to his face, to everyone around him for the rest of his life.

Harry didn’t even notice that the tears had begun to fall until he tasted the salt at the corners of his lips. He shrunk away as a hand snaked into his curls and started petting them. It’s false comfort made him nauseous.

“Oh darling, don’t cry”, the prince soothed, the words hot against Harry’s ear. “Are you scared of him, is that it? Did he threaten you not to say anything? Did he threaten to do things to you if-“

“No!” Harry cried, shaking his head vigorously. They could make up lies about him all they wanted but he would not sit and listen to them do it to Louis. “He didn’t even know! He wouldn’t- he never-“

The prince shushed him, scratching tender circles into his scalp. “All I’m asking you to do is tell me his name Harry. He’s a criminal, as much as you may not like to think it. A pirate no less. It’s in his nature to lie, to take, to hurt. I don’t blame you in the slightest for being so deceived. He knew exactly who he needed to be to make you believe him, to make you loyal. These people don’t have loyalty. Why stay loyal to him Harry? Give me his name and this can all be over.”

Harry’s eyes were glossy as the prince spoke. Was there even the smallest chance that the Louis he knew wasn’t true? That the Louis he had become so dreadfully wrapped up in was a performance tailored just for Harry? He guessed he would never know anymore.

All he did know for certain right now was that Louis never hurt him.

Harry looked up at prince Tom with a cutting stare, lip trembling with pure conviction. “Go to hell.”

There was a shuddering silence as Harry’s words echoed in the room. 

The drop in temperature was staggering. Harry dared to watch as the prince’s righteousness frosted over, the grip in his hair turning from gentle to ruthlessly tight. Harry yelped when the prince yanked his head back, boring down into him with hard eyes.

“You are testing my patience here Harry”, he growled before releasing him roughly and throwing his head forward, “I tried to play nice but clearly, you are not going to play nice.”

The venom behind that sentence told Harry that this was a very different conversation now. No more persuasion attempts, no more effort to try appear like the good guy. No more manipulation. He’d drawn him out of his hiding place.

“I’m not going to play your games”, Harry snapped, his wet face hot with anger. They wanted to destroy his life? Fine, but he would be damned if he’d watch them do the same to Louis. “That’s all you want isn't it? A scapegoat for a public hanging.”

Tom was wordless but Harry could see his hands shaking with the frustration convulsing through him. Harry leaped from the chair when he slammed his fist into the wall, the shock sending a sting of pain from where the rope was cutting into his skin.

“Jesus, leave it to my dolt of a brother to want the one person in the bloody country who would rather whore around on fucking pirate ships then marry him!”

Harry eyed him cautiously but kept very still, like prey hiding in plain sight from a predator. He hardly believed this same man who was now storming around with a bloodied fist was coddling him a few minutes ago. A prince of England just cursed in front of him, called him a whore no less. He would be offended if he wasn’t so jarred by the change of tone.

“Why can’t you just lie down and do as you’re fucking told!?” He erupted, a vein in his thick neck about to burst. “It’s not as if you were unaware that you would be called upon to make an alliance with another noble family. When your father said you were difficult, boy did he mean it.”

The prince leaned his arms on the back of his chair, scrubbing his temples harshly before flaring up again like a charging bull. 

“Is it just to piss people off because trust me when I say you succeeded there! I have never seen Lord Styles more furious than when we realised this little stunt you had pulled. You don’t even want to _know_ what Max said when I got back to London without you.”

The meaning behind those words ran shivers through Harry’s spine. If in front of him was his brother, the usually well-presented counterpart, what did that say about Maxwell? What did Maxwell do or say when nobody was looking?

“Max has always been determined”, the prince said lowly, “When he wants something he will always get it. Always. You really fucked up here, you fucked with this little cat and mouse you’ve put us all on. It’s only spurred him on more, made you more of an interest to him. Nobody has ever said no to Max before. Not even our parents which is why he is the way he is in my opinion. People give Max what he wants, they let him win.”

The prince sighed heavily before stopping in front of a window, drained by his emotional rage, “But not you Harry. Not you...”

Harry’s mind was scrambling desperately to take all of this in. What he did was deeper than he ever imagined. He knew there would be outrage and some wounded pride but he just presumed the prince would give up on the idea of marriage.

Instead he had thrust prince Maxwell’s entire identity, entire authority into question. The prince didn’t just want him back because he wanted to marry him. He wanted to marry him to prove a point, which was a far more chilling motive.

“When we were young, he took me out the back fields of the palace with his hunting shotgun”, Tom began, still dazing out the window. Harry was confused by the relevance of a childhood story but he didn’t have much choice other than to listen.

“About twenty minutes in we catch sight of this incredible pheasant. A beautiful male. Max lined up the gun but he was impatient. He missed and the bird flew away before he could reload the barrel. We spent the rest of the day looking for this one blasted pheasant, hours and hours until our feet were blistered to the bone. He just wouldn’t quit. Right as the sun was going down, it burst out from the ferns by the trail and with the last bullet of the day, he hits him. It wasn’t a clean shot though. Enough to injure it, not enough to kill it.”

The prince was looking far into the distance, his gaze tight as he retold the memory. “I stood there beside him while he watched it flap about, blood seeping out of it’s shiny chest. Do you want to know what he did with the pheasant Harry?”

Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“He turned around and left it. He left it there to die. He left it there to suffer a slow, agonising death.”

Tom’s eyes returned to Harry, cold and colourless. 

”That’s what being married to Max is going to feel like if you don’t cooperate with me here. You should feel sorry for yourself, what you’re facing when we get back. Bloody hell, even I feel sorry for you. If I were you, I would get thinking long and hard about who brought you here and what he looks like and pray that my brother is in a forgiving mood. If he has something to show the Lords, a raping, murderous pirate that kidnapped you perhaps, he might soften about this fiasco and save you some sort of dignity.”

The prince placated, seemingly out of nowhere as his eyes bounced across Harry’s face. The speed at which the man in front of him could switch his entire disposition was terrifying. He approached him again, smoothing back his short strands of hair as he tried to recollect the composure of his previous self.

“My brother is an idiot but he knows he needs to keep this nice and neat if you are to be his husband”, he said, grazing his fingertips down Harry’s cheek and lifting them under his jaw with his clean hand. Tom’s head lolled to the side while he studied him. Harry stared back indignantly.

“Mother and father wouldn’t let him have you around if he ruined it with his recklessness. After all, your face and your father’s name are the only things you have of any sort of worth. No, he’d hurt you in other ways, ways much worse.”

Harry attempted to jerk his head free from the prince’s hold but the grip on his jaw clamped like a vice.

Tom clucked disapprovingly. “It’s a terrible shame really. If only you were more agreeable you could have been pleasant company among us in London throughout the years I imagine. That is before my brother decided he wanted you dragged there kicking and screaming anyway. You Northerners are too unbridled for your own good sometimes, civility is lost on you. You could have been like us.”

Harry scowled as the prince let up at last and turned his back to him. “I could never be like you”.

Tom scoffed over if shoulder. “Of course, I forgot that you prefer being some pirate’s faithful little pet don’t you?”

The door creaked open but prince Tom was standing directly in view. He spread his arms out at his sides, welcoming them in.

“Eleanor! Perfect timing. Perhaps you should try talk some sense into him.”

Harry’s gaze flung itself towards the door at the name as the prince moved aside. Harry had to blink twice to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. His step-sister was indeed standing in the doorway, resting against it.

Harry hadn’t seen her in months, let alone expect to see her here. She was supposed to be finishing her education in London over the summer. Another reason he wanted to keep his distance from the city.

She looked older then he remembered even though she was four months younger than him. Her dark hair was twisted into a bun and her appearance bared a less hateful resemblance to her mother. Harry was too young to remember what lord Calder looked like before he died and Angela married his father but he didn’t think it mattered.

She was her mother’s daughter in every way.

“Not even a hello for your dear sister?” she remarked, scuffing the floor with her shoes as she strolled into the room. 

“Forgive me, I’m not in the fondest of character”, Harry replied, getting over the startle of seeing his stepsister so far from where he had last. “What are you doing here?”

“Well seen as I was in London anyway and had heard what had transpired, I suggested to father I get some experience in maritime dealings. Maybe even dust out some cobwebs in my training”, she said, smoothing over the base of her sword in her belt habitually like Louis used to. 

As much as she was like her mother, she was everything his father had wanted in a child. She had the mindset for the world they lived in. She excelled in combat, both hand to hand and military wise. She genuinely enjoyed shadowing him and her mother on political endeavours. She would happily march around the household all day, ordering servants around the yards and kitchens. 

She could do all the other things too. She was graceful and knew the right things to say in the life of elegant society. She wasn’t clumsy and never looked uncomfortable at fancy dining or galas. Her laugh never sounded fake or put on. She could just as easily wear a dress as she could a fencing jacket. She was the kind of pleasant company prince Tom had been comparing him against a few minutes ago.

In short, she was absolutely nothing like Harry.

“I never got to formally congratulate you on your news before I left.”

“I’m sure it came as such a surprise”, he scorned.

Eleanor shrugged and crossed her arms. “He was asking an awful lot about you when I went up to greet him at the Spring Ball with mother.”

“And you were more than willing to encourage his pursuit I suppose?”

Harry should have known that’s when his faith was sealed. In all honesty he just didn’t care for bowing and exchanging mock words of adoration with people he didn’t know or want to.

“From my dealings with him, his grace seemed nothing other than most pleasing”, she said, though the lie in her eye told different, “I’m sure you’ll make a good pairing in time.”

“You seem to enjoy him, perhaps you should marry him instead.”

“And reliqush my future title as Lady Styles? I’ll politely decline.”

“Interestingly enough I wasn’t given such an option.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to review your options while we do some more investigating into your pirate friend”, the prince said, rubbing his hand over his bloodied knuckles, “Perhaps some solitude will refresh your memory?”

He moved towards the door. “Don’t even try to give us the runaround again. My men are guarding every entrance and the entirety of the port has their eyes peeled so please, be a dear and save us all the time and trouble won’t you?”, he asked of him, though Harry was well aware it wasn’t a request.

He pushed the door ajar and smiled at Eleanor. “Ladies first.”

Eleanor and Harry exchanged one last loveless glare before she slunk out of the room in front of the prince. Tom looked back at Harry, running his eyes along his bonds one last time. He pulled the door shut without another word.

Reality set in colder in the silence.

It took a few minutes for the gravity of his situation to take hold of him. Every slowed second that passed made him more terrifyingly aware of the knowledge that this time it seemed, there really was no way out. It had been the universe playing a cruel joke on him all along. Letting the lamb spend a few wonderful days out in the field before carting it back to the slaughterhouse.

His breathing became deafening as he gasped like a fish thrown on the rocks. The world disappeared around him as a frigid dread took over. He frantically pulled and tugged, praying that each new try would be the final burst needed to break them. He was biting so hard down onto his lip with the pressure that it went numb.

Harry didn’t want to go numb. Feelings were all he had to remember. He hadn’t even put his ring on that morning as a token. It frightened him to think that his afternoon in Swift’s was the last time he would ever be truly happy again, that the heights of his life were behind him before he even ever got to fully appreciate them. 

His chest caved in and out at the thought. His lungs were pumping with pure panic. If he went back to London and married prince Maxwell his life was over. He knew that for certain. Once they locked him behind those doors, he would never get another chance to escape. He would be a prisoner there until he died.

Or until he was killed.

He jumped out of his head with a short yell when he registered hands trying to lift up his elbows from behind him. They had come to take him away. Take him to England. Take him back.

He couldn’t go back.

“No, no, no please”, he begged through a dry sob, “No. Not yet, I can’t, I can’t!.”

He was so hazy from distress his pleas began running into each other while other the voices around him were muffled like his ears were packed with cotton.

”Easy”, he heard floating above him somewhere, “easy Harry, it’s just me.”

In his gut Harry thought he might recognise the voice. He didn’t have time to clear his clouded mind before there were two hands on each side of his face bringing him level with their own. Harry tried desperately to understand why the stranger’s palms were familiar against his skin. 

“Deep breaths for me love”, the voice coaxed and Harry searched for something to anchor him in the fog. The face drifted around in pieces in front of him but he couldn’t put it all together. He sought out a pair of eyes.

When a wave of pure blue washed over him, Harry found himself instantly calmed.

“There we go”, the voice encouraged and pierced through Harry’s delirium. It felt like a key finally unlocking. He knew that voice. He knew that touch. He knew how it felt to be looked through by those eyes. 

“Louis?”, he asked through a quivering breath. He was almost afraid to believe it. 

“Want to tell me what happened to rule number one!” Louis whisper-shouted but still held Harry’s face so gently, “and why didn’t you tell me you were marrying the prince of fucking England!”

It was Louis. He wasn’t imagining things. Louis was mad at him and Louis had heard the truth and but he was here. It made him want to cry harder than before.

“We’ll do this later”, someone- _Zayn_ , said to his left, “Niall how’s it looking?”

“Nearly got it”, Niall gritted and only then did Harry register the cold pocketknife working its way through the rope tethered at his feet. 

He didn’t know how they found him or why they were doing it but in a million lifetimes he couldn’t repay them.

“Hurry up”, Louis pressured, “Perrie will only be able to hold them off for so long.”

“Perrie?” Harry asked. It still seemed out of body to be hearing the names of people he thought he’d have to forget.

Louis threw the now loose rope hanging around his ankles across the room. “We ran into her on the way here when we’d discovered where they had set up. If there’s one way to distract a bunch of navy men, it’s to put female attention in front of them.”

Harry was going to give her the biggest hug when he saw her again. If he saw her again.

The second Harry felt the rope fall limply from around his hands, he surged up and flung himself around Louis’ neck. Every part of the other boy immediately grounded him. His stubble grazing against his jaw. His smell of fresh sea breeze mingled with vanilla and tobacco. His warmth as he engulfed himself in him. 

He was real and he was here.

“You came back for me”, he wept into his neck as he felt Louis slowly take him around his waist and pull him in. In that moment Harry swore he felt a shared breath of relief between them.

“Lets get out of here alive first before you thank me yeah?” Louis said softly by his cheek, giving him one last squeeze before relaxing his hold. He didn’t completely drop his contact however, his hand falling down and finding his hand.

“Do not let go”, he instructed sternly.

Harry nodded without hesitation. Louis was crushing the bones in his fingers but it didn’t matter. Maybe it was the dialled up emotions but he didn’t think he wanted to let go ever again.

Louis pulled him into a run. Niall, Harry and Louis tore out the side-door while Zayn held it for them, his eyes flashing towards the front of the building where commotion was beginning to stir outside. The last thing Harry heard before they took off down the backstreet was aggressive shouting and the front entrance of the gambling den being beaten off its hinges. 

“We locked the door from the inside so that should buy us some time”, Louis said as they sprinted in towards the thick of the market, “Perrie’s going to find the crew and get them to return to the ship.”

Harry’s mind was racing almost as fast as his feet, which was as fast as his legs would physically let him without him tripping himself up. His muscles were burning as they thumped against the cobble streets, his chest sucking in the hot African air with each push.

After dashing around one last corner they crashed into the markets, quite literally. Louis jerked Harry backwards as a man drawing a cart skidded to a screeching halt when they burst out from behind some draping carpets. Dust and foreign curses flew up into the air as boxes of vegetables rolled out in sets of green, yellows and reds.

“Sorry!” Niall hollered back as Louis led them quickly straight through the mess, leaping over the spilled produce and tilted cart. 

Louis looked like he was sure of where he was taking them. That’s why Harry was filled with confusion when he sped them down into a dead-ended alley. There was nowhere to go. There was a building with a flat topped roof cutting off the street and boxing them in. There were crates in a strewn pile at the base but someone would still need help at the last step getting up and onto the top. 

Harry swore it was the heat and fatigue getting to him when he saw Liam pop up over the lip of the roof.

“What took so long?”, he berated with concern as Zayn began to climb up to him.

“Prince Tom and his useless fucking speeches”, Louis groaned, a hand on his hip and taking a breather, “We had to wait until he shut up before we could get a chance to grab him.”

After Liam had hoisted Zayn up to him with his arm and they shared a brief reunion, Niall started to follow. A wrong footing in the middle nearly sent him and the tower crumbling but he gathered himself and reached Liam’s dangling arms in one piece.

“Okay”, Louis expired, sweat beads running down his forehead, “you’re next. I’ll go after you and then-”

“And where exactly do you think your going, handsome?”

The two of them whipped around to see Eleanor, running her lithe blade between her fingers. She stood at the opening, barricading their only immediate escape route.

Louis carefully pushed Harry behind him but he didn’t seem the least bit intimidated. “Hear that?”, he said with a dauntless smile, “she called me handsome. That’s more of a compliment than I've gotten off you in three weeks Curly.”

“To whom do I owe the pleasure?” She asked, giving Louis a once over. 

“I can be whoever you want me to be sweetheart”, he winked and Harry scolded himself immediately for the petty irritation it drew out of him.

Not the time Harry.

Eleanor wasn’t phased by Louis’ brashness, not nearly as much as Harry tended to be. “I’m sorry to cut this wild goose chase short but Harry is rather late for an engagement, excuse the irony, so we really must be going. In fact you’re all invited too! Prince Maxwell would be delighted to have Harry’s new companions see him happily married before you all have to die.”

“Oh yes, I’ve heard” Louis replied nonchalantly, not at all thrown by her promise of death, “So this is what old Maxy does nowadays instead of sending Tom up my ass about a few missing navy transports? Cradle robbing teenagers? What, has every eligible person in Britain his own age already fled the country or something?”

“I should think not. Only one has ever tried that”, she said, delicately directing her sword at Harry though her eyes were still firmly on the pirate captain.

“Well no matter. I’m sorry to disappoint you but I really don’t think I’d be able to fit it into my schedule on such short notice. What would I wear for one thing!”

Eleanor stood with calculating eyes as Louis flaunted about in front of her. “This charismatic outlaw gig I have going on right now is very hands on you know. Plus the whole, ‘you will be murdered’ thing just will not work with our plans unfortunately. Some other time perhaps?”

Eleanor sighed to herself and planted her feet apart, moving the hilt of her sword between both hands in perfect position. “In that case, I’m afraid we will have to do this a different way.”

There was a loud silence as Eleanor clearly laid out her invitation for Louis to challenge her. Harry knew what this was. He had watched Eleanor assume the exact same position for tournaments his whole life.

They were about to duel. 

“Go”, Louis ordered calmly as he too released his sword from it’s scabbard. 

“Louis”, Harry attempted anxiously as suspense began to surge between the wielding fighters. “I don’t think-“

“Harry, I understand stubbornness is a speciality of yours but for once do you think you could listen to me?” he grated, his face set and eyes steely as they fixed themselves on his match.

Before Harry could form another word, Eleanor leaped forward and the first clash of metal flashed in the alley.

“Go Harry!” He yelled, pushing back against Eleanor’s blade as they built a looming X shape between them.

Harry surged towards the pile of crates, clambering up it and flinching every time he heard the horrible sound of steel on steel. He heaved himself up, carefully avoiding the footfall Niall had been victim to earlier as Liam’s hand got closer to his face. His clumsy habit plagued him like a devil on his shoulder the whole way up. So much so that by the time he had gotten to the top, he had convinced himself that he was going to fall ten times over. 

He lunged for one of the inked arms for dear life, a second arm reaching for the back of his shirt and hauling him over onto solid surface.

“You alright?” Liam asked him, putting a hand on Harry’s knee as he lay on his back facing the sky and gathered some breaths. It was the first time he had stilled since they rescued him. 

“Don’t worry about me”, Harry replied as another clang of swords rang in their ears. Everyone’s gaze shot downward.

Harry knew Louis was a good swordsman but he’d never actually seen him engaged in a real fight. He was light on his feet as he dodged Eleanor’s swings, ducking and diving under the sword. Eleanor was battling like a warrior with strong, targeted blows that echoed the frustration on her face. Louis’ style was more akin to dancing, full of quick strides and smart acrobatics to throw his opponent off balance without much weight in his weapon. He was stalling her.

It made for a dazzling but dangerous combat.

Harry watched paralysed as Louis threw his sword up then sliced it straight downwards, clanging against Eleanor’s which she was holding in a horizontal line above her head. Harry didn’t understand. Louis knew she was going to do that. She could see that move coming from a mile away and Louis knew that too.

With a featherlight touch Louis grabbed hold of Eleanor’s sword near the point of the blade. Harry was on edge. He actually grabbed her blade and he wasn’t screaming in agony. If anything, there was a slight smile playing on his lips. 

He pushed harder on the contact point between the two shards of the metal and Eleanor’s arm began to shake. Harry could only watch in awe when in one swift side step he wrenched downwards and hooked the two weapons. Eleanor lost all grip on her sword as her shoulders were forced down under Louis’ discipline. One moment the sword was in Eleanor’s possession, the next Louis was holding them both out in front of him with one in each hand.

He’d completely disarmed her in three seconds.

The fleeting moment of victory was shattered when a bullet ripped through the scene. 

Harry’s head snapped up. Some guards had caught up and were across the way, pistols raised and ready to fire while others were running towards them.

“Shit”, Niall said as Louis skimmed Eleanor’s swords as far as he could across the cobble and legged it towards the crates while she split off after it. Harry’s heart had never beaten so fast. With each crate Louis scaled a new wave of guards landed in and bullets were pelting the brick all around them. Harry’s mind was repeating an endless chorus of Louis can’t be hurt Louis can’t die Louis come on Louis has to make it.

Louis pushed himself up onto the last box after what was the most tortuous few moments of Harry’s life. He stretched upwards to catch his first mate’s hand when Liam screamed out.

“Liam!”, the three of them cried in unison, all making a move to reach him but another bullet missing Zayn by a hair had them flattened again. It happened so fast. Nome of them knew if it was a direct hit, a graze or even a ricochet.

“I’m fine!” he called back through clamped teeth, though when he strained down and finally clasped hold of Louis’ hand Harry saw the red stain blossoming through his beige shirt. He was pummelled with guilt.

This was his fault. People were getting hurt for him and it was all his fault.

With a final haul, he pulled Louis up and over, narrowly missing as more bullets chipped off the brick ledge. They were about to keep going when Louis swiftly pushed the tip of his sword down over the roof edge and tumbled the mountain of crates with a splintered smash.

“There”, he panted, “that should hold them back.”

They hurriedly made their way down the rooftops, jumping over the gaps between the buildings. The view of the tiered city surrounding them as they got closer and closer to the ground was helping to settle Harry’s nerves. They were mostly quiet as they walked, everyone taking their own time to come down from the high of fighting for their lives. 

Zayn had his arm under Liam to support him, seemingly filling him in on what they had overheard from Tom and Eleanor. At least that’s what it looked like as he gawked at Zayn and couldn’t help but throw his gaze back to Harry. Harry kept walking like he didn’t notice, his face heating up.

When they leaped to a building just a few metres from the safety of the ground, they threw their weary legs over the edge and fell one by one back to earth. Harry was the last to drop himself down, noticing the ghost of Louis’ hands on his hips as he landed to stop him from losing steadiness. He didn’t have enough time to get shy about the gesture. They disappeared quickly, Louis looking around stealthily before walking up and knocking on a door a few steps away.

He knocked on it three times melodically. His first knock was longer than the second two, like it was a pattern.

The rustling of chains unhitching rattled from the other side. With what seemed like a tenth click the door edged open, untrusting before at last swinging open. Harry was stunned to see Taylor standing there.

“You made it”, she said with relief, ushering them all inside.

“Barely”, Louis said after her as she brought them in. Harry hadn’t even noticed that they were in fact at the back entrance of Swift’s. He must have turned and escaped through the other direction earlier. It was strange and almost deja vu to be back at his starting point before everything went south.

The place was cleared out. Harry wasn’t sure if Taylor had done that or if everyone had gone out hoping to find him. Tables and chairs were left strewn haphazardly, half eaten plates of food were left abandoned and not a sound filled the place except for their depleted footsteps lugging across the floor.

“The guys I rent the room out to above the bar aren’t in town until morning luckily, so have the place to yourselves”, she offered, handing Louis a key and pointing him up a small staircase. “I’ll warn them when they come back to expect guests. They won’t say anything I promise. If anything they’ll be happy to have something to talk about over dinner for the next year.”

Louis took the keys gratefully. “Seriously, we owe you one Tay. There’s no way we’d have gotten out of the port tonight, you’re saving our asses here.”

“Like I said, friend of Olivia’s right?” She reminded, giving Harry a reassuring squeeze on his arm. Harry was left wondering what exactly he’d done in his life to deserve all this kindness and sacrifice from people he hardly knew. ”You guys must be worn out so I’ll save you the badgering but tomorrow, I want all the details of why exactly there are royal family fugitives in my attic.”

“Thank you”, Harry managed with a thin voice, embracing her at the bottom of the stairs. She rubbed her hand over his back. “Get some rest.”

They stumbled into the apartment, their adrenaline rush from earlier well and truly dampened. It was small, a dining area and kitchen connected to a living space with one couch and a couple cushioned chairs which Niall and Liam dumped themselves on. There was a humble room with a double bed in the rear. Harry could hardly believe that five people fit in it comfortably but that wasn’t even nearly his biggest concern at that moment.

Zayn had towed Louis into the kitchen and it was obvious that they were talking about him. They were clearly disagreeing, hushed words of dispute mangled around his name.

“Hey”, Niall called faintly over to him with a small smile, “We’ll figure this out Haz.”

Harry really wanted to believe him. He was about to go sit down with them when the pair returned from the kitchen. Zayn didn’t say anything. He headed straight to Liam with a cloth and pressed it against his injured side. His expression was unreadable.

Harry held back a wince as a Louis jabbed a finger at him then over to the bedroom.

“You. In there. Now. I think we need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a long fic isn’t it...but I love it so it’s fine.
> 
> Next chapter is an emotional one, I may genuinely have to add crying Harry as a warning tag in the future.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around and I’ll be back soon! In the meantime I’d love to hear comments on what you think so far! <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UMMMM lets pretend I didn’t vanish for two months please! I really didn’t mean for that to happen and I’m so sorry but I got a job for summer break and getting back to school has been really stressful but I swear I have been working on this chapter the whole time! It was a tricky one for me because there are so many emotional beats to hit in this one and I just hope you guys enjoy it after all this time! <3 once again...I’m sorry for being MIA I promise it won’t happen again...I hope.
> 
> Some TW////
> 
> -Mentions of r*pe (just mentions of the word)  
> -mentions of h*nging  
> -mentions of familial death

He was alright. 

He was shaken up as he walked over and sat rigidly on the bed but for the most part, Harry was alright. For Louis, who was stood watching him across the room, that was enough to keep down every other emotion scratching inside of him. For the moment.

It had been an hour before they had any sign of him. It was the longest hour of Louis’ life. 

By the time they bumped into Perrie, Zayn had to tell her what was going on while Louis stopped himself from losing it completely. Nothing had rattled him this much since...well, since.

That was all that was banging against his temples. It was happening again. He couldn’t stop it again.

He should have been watching him.

He should have went up with him.

He should have followed him.

He was lost in a pirate port. The chances of finding someone lost in a pirate port were slim to none on a normal occasion, whatever normal was for them.

It was Perrie who had the idea to let the guards try and lead them to Harry instead of the other way around. If he was going to end up anywhere, it would be at the docks where there was word of a setup at the old betting den. It was the only place they knew for sure he could be.

She had been right. The place had been swarmed with them, guards. It took a bit of logic and hopefulness to dictate that Harry was in there. Perrie offered to distract while Liam would go hang back to help them make an exit over the wall and ask Taylor if she would take them in.

Louis wasn’t sure if they’d even make it to that point yet here they all were, alive. He hadn’t prepared for that. He hadn’t prepared for this conversation and for what he was going to hear. What else he was going to hear.

Harry was first to speak, albeit reluctantly.

“How did you um, find out?” He stammered. His eyes were looking everywhere but Louis.

“Heard it”, he said curtly, his stance cool as he leaned his back against the wall, “after we snuck into the back entrance while you and your sister were talking.”

Louis was being short with him on purpose but in actuality they really hadn’t heard the details. They only managed to sneak into the back when the guards were opening the front doors for the crazy women who had tried to kill him earlier. He guessed she was Harry’s aforementioned sister. The small bit of muffled information however that did reach his ears was permanently engraved into him. 

“How much exactly did you hear?” Harry croaked.

“I want to hear it from you.”

Louis watched as Harry opened his mouth a few times wordlessly, hoping someone else would fill in the blanks for him while he was fidgeting with his hands. 

“Harry, you seriously need to start talking to me about what’s going on.” 

He startled to attention at the clear agitation in Louis’ voice, his hands dropping to his knees. “I’m sorry I’m- trying to think of where to begin.”

“Let me help you out then”, he offered harshly, “Maybe start with why you didn’t tell me that at some point I should expect the royal navy and prince fucking Tom to rock up with a half a million bounty over your head on behalf of your pissed off fiancé!?” 

Harry curled in on himself like a kicked puppy and for a split second Louis wanted to run over and apologise. 

No. Absolutely not. He was not going to feel bad for this. He nearly took a sword to the neck for this. Harry lied to him. Harry was a noble. Harry was engaged.

Louis was troubled by the fact that that part maybe bothered him the most.

“I didn’t know about any bounty or the navy”, Harry said meekly, “If I’d known that was going to happen I’d have-”

“You’d have what, told me? Warned me?” Louis snapped. He was being powered by something stronger than curiosity now. It was something deeper, something that was hurting him from the inside out that he’d never really felt before. He wanted to throw something. If they were in his own cabin he would definitely be throwing things. 

“Don’t play dumb with me Harry, you’re not stupid. I could call you a lot of things right now but you are not stupid. You knew there was no way they were ever going to let that slide.”

“I wanted to tell you, I promise I did. All the time.”

Louis wanted nothing more than to believe him when he looked up at him like that. With those _fucking_ eyes. With his long wet lashes trying to blink away the sadness in the most emerald fucking eyes Louis had ever seen. And he would know. He had seen many a jewel in his life. He had twisted them between his fingers and held them up in the sunlight to watch them sparkle. 

None of them compared to Harry. Not a single one.

He gave his head a jerk, mentally slapping himself across his face. He was a pirate for fuck sake. He’d seen boys cry before, he’d made boys cry before. Why was it so hard with harry? Why did he make everything so hard?

“Then why didn’t you?” He gritted out, jaw clenched.

There was silence. Harry didn’t answer.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Harry drew back from his raised voice. “Because I- I suppose I had hoped that it wouldn’t matter anymore!”

“You had hoped that it wou-“, Louis cut himself off with a deep breath through his nose. “Well clearly it still matters to lover boy!”

Harry’s face scrunched together as he was about to argue back but Louis kept going. 

“Marrying a prince”, he scowled with disgust, “Seen as we all fucking know your little secret now I’m _dying_ to know all about your trouble in paradise. What was it, last minute cold feet? Did you pack your bags in your fucking French chateau and leave a heartfelt note on his bedside table? Firing a shot in the dark here but it doesn’t seem like he took that very well!”

Harry had been shaking his head furiously while Louis ranted. “It wasn’t like that”, he said adamantly, “Not at all Louis, I swear to you.”

“You swear?”, Louis half-laughed, throwing his hands in the air, “Well that solves everything then! I mean, you’ve proven that your word is beyond trustworthy.”

He knew this would happen. He knew this would all come back to bite him. Things like Harry didn’t last. At least the illusion of him didn’t.

“Zayn told me to be careful and I didn’t fucking listen to him”, Louis paced, not sure about who he was more angry with now. Himself or Harry. “I accepted your bullshit deal for an easy life but nothing apparently is easy with you. You practically live for free on my ship. I don’t make you do any real work. And no, counting letters is not real work.”

“You don’t count lett-“

“I don’t care! For fuck sake you’ve even been sleeping in my bed!”

Harry burst up to his feet. “You weren’t exactly kicking me out!” 

As soon as he had shot up, the pitiful demeanour he’d been carrying since they rescued him suddenly fell to ashes. Louis was slightly stunned. 

“Well that was before I knew you wanted to marry one of those pricks!”, he fired back, ignoring the hurt that spiked on Harry’s face. 

“I never wanted that. I never wanted any of this!”, Harry cried, “I’ve never even met Maxwell.”

Louis jaw went slack. 

“How could you- You’ve never? What-?” He blabbered, “Why the hell would you accept a proposal off of someone you’ve never met?!”

“Do you really think I would have done so if I was given a choice!? Do you really think I would desire to marry someone like him?!” Harry yelled, like they were stupid questions. Like Louis was somehow supposed to have known the answer already even though he found out about the whole thing less than an hour ago. 

“I don’t know what to think anymore! I don’t even know who you really are. That was another lovely surprise by the way. Do I have to call you my lord now, Harry Styles?”

Harry flinched at hearing his full title spat so bitterly off Louis’ tongue but he didn’t back down. “Why should my name determine who I should or shouldn’t be! It doesn’t change anything about who I am. Who I have been to you, to anyone. Though if it makes you feel any better I hate being a Styles too. I detest it’s very sound. Everyday of my life I’ve hated myself trying to live up to that fucking name.”

Now _that_ was different. Louis had never heard Harry speak like that. He was always so soft-spoken and slow. It was actually annoying how easily Harry’s voice could relax him before they went to sleep. Comparing this Harry in front of him now to the Harry he was used to was like comparing ice and fire. He was ablaze.

“I knew being the son of lord Desmond Styles was going to be the death of me sooner or later”, he spat, his face stormy. “It took my mother and sister away from me. It took my freedom away from me. It tried to take my whole life away from me. My father chose that name over his own child! Yet I always knew that. I always knew that he would put his legacy and his titles before me and I was still expected to be just fine with it. He always expected me to be the perfect Styles. To be the perfect ignorant snob just like him, like them. Like all of them! I was expected to talk perfectly and look perfectly and act perfectly but I was never enough. Nothing I ever did was enough for him.”

Louis could only stand there paralysed as Harry continued to grow more disheveled, a hand delving in and out of his hair. 

“Then Tom has the audacity to tell me I should be grateful for all they have done to me?! Yes father, thank you for abandoning me when I didn’t turn out to be the son you wanted and leaving my tutor to raise me. Thank you ever so much for belittling me everyday of my life until you became so ashamed of me you’d rather see me miserable than happy. How could I ever express my gratitude to you for trading me off to a stranger to be beaten and raped for the rest of my life!”

At the words Louis felt his stomach plummet.

Suddenly everything around them felt heavier as the weight of what Harry had just said hung in the air between them. He quickly begged himself that he had misunderstood more of Harry’s fancy terms but there wasn’t anywhere in sight. There was no deeper understanding that he wasn’t picking up on. It had been the most painfully clear Harry had ever sounded.

Louis was rooted to the spot. Not Harry. Things like that weren’t supposed to be anywhere near him. Things so evil should never even have had to poison his thoughts. Not Harry, soft and bright and beautiful Harry who read fairytales to pirates and was afraid of storms.

What sort of monster could look at him and all that he was and want to hurt him?

Harry held a trembling hand to his mouth, tears ripping down his skin as he squeezed his eyes tight and tried to swallow them away.

“The prince and I didn’t have the g-glamorous, rich people lover affair that you’re imagining”, he spoke through his tears, wrapping his arms around himself like a protective blanket. “There were no love letters or-or diamonds or holidays to french chateaus.”

He sucked in a breath more broken then he looked. “You want honesty?” He rasped, his throat raw from the agony of the words, “Well here it is. I was sold to him Louis. Sold like livestock by the only family I had left in the whole world.”

Sold. It replayed itself in Louis’ head over and over, each time slamming him with a new ton of regret and knocking every ounce of rage out of him. Anything and everything he had felt before fell that away. None of it seemed to matter anymore.

“Harry”, Louis breathed gently, reaching out but the younger boy only pulled himself away from his touch. His rapid, choppy breathing was bouncing off the walls around the room. 

“Don’t”, he said, roughly scrubbing away at his cheeks to rid of the trails already burnt into his skin. “Don’t feel pity for me because you-you’re right. Everything you said, you’re right. I was well aware what someone like M-Maxwell was capable of, the power and access he had. I knew the risks I was inviting when I boarded your ship and I ju-justified it by telling myself you were bad people. I judged you all before I even knew you and I was wrong. So awfully wrong and now after everything you-you’ve done for me, I’ve put you all in so much harm.”

Harry knuckles were a ghostly white as he tightened the grip around himself. “People nearly died today because of me. Liam got shot. That was me. He is hurt and bleeding in that room because of me! He could have died. You could have died. You all could have died! Zayn, Niall, now Taylor and whoever’s apartment we have taken over and everyone else who is protecting me and-“

“Love, you need to slow down”, Louis attempted, but Harry kept escalating.

“You shouldn’t have come looking for me. I left Swift’s for a reason. I left Swift’s so none of this could happen and it happened anyway. You shouldn’t have helped me, I shouldn’t have let you. I wasn’t thinking. I was in no space for thinking when you found me but I am now. If they find out who you are, they’ll kill you. Tom knows we are going to Italy, he predicted it all along. You still have time to leave the port and turn back if you go now. You need to go now.”

Louis carefully made his way to Harry who was striding backwards from him with each closed gap until he collided with the wall. He looked so tired from having to fight his own battles and Louis quickly wished he’d been there. He wished he’d been there for every last one. 

“Aren’t you listening to me?!” He exclaimed with disbelief, “If they find you with me they’ll kill you. They’ll kill you! As in you’ll be dead Louis and you can’t die because of me. I won’t let you. I won’t Louis!”

When Louis was close enough Harry started hitting his fists pathetically against his chest, trying to shove him away through his babbled sobs but he refused to move. He wasn’t going anywhere. Not when he just got him back. 

He heard him gasp harshly as Louis crushed Harry’s chest into him.

It took three seconds for Harry to fall apart in his arms. 

Louis pressed his lips lightly on top of Harry’s head, his face buried deep into Louis’ shoulder. He was clutching hard enough at Louis’ back to leave marks but he didn’t mind. Harry could mark him all he wanted to, tattoo his fingerprints into his flesh for all he cared. 

“I’m so sorry”, Harry said with a muffled cry, his whole body shaking, “I’m so so sorry.”

“I know”, Louis whispered to him, smoothing his palm down Harry’s hair and holding the back of his head. “I know you are. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that with you. I pushed you too far.”

Louis wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that for. With Harry plastered to him, just letting him cry while he tried to piece together everything he had confessed. Everything he thought he knew had been completely twisted around so quickly that his neck hurt. Those two words Harry had shouted at him were swirling around his mind and each time they passed by he held onto him tighter. 

When he seemed to have relaxed a little and his chest stooped heaving, Louis decided to try again. Much more tender this time.

“Do you think we could sit down and maybe talk about things now love?” He encouraged, pulling back from him, “You said a lot of things very fast there that I think we need to clear up.”

Harry didn’t make any signs of objection so Louis took that as a yes. He led them back to the bed and Harry sat himself gingerly against the headboard.

Nothing shocked him anymore. He had heard of every violence and cruelty one could imagine but for the first time ever, Louis was terrified of what Harry was about to tell him.

It was a few moments before Harry bit the bullet. He had pulled a pillow up to himself to comfort his restless hands.

“The day I met you”, he started shakily, “my father had just told me he’d arranged for me to marry Prince Maxwell. Prince Tom was supposed to take me to London the next morning.”

Harry sighed deeply. “If I’m being honest however this whole mess was imminent long before that. Since I was born really. From the moment I was born my father always presumed that I would grow up and aspire to pursue military training as he had done and my grandfather before him had done and so it goes. But I knew I never ever wanted that. Father was hailed and decorated in England but he won it all through blood and he carried that. Wherever he went he had blood on his hands. My father made a lot of enemies throughout his life, it was only a matter of time before someone took their revenge.“

It clicked with Louis. “The fire.”

Harry looked up at him emptily. “They charged a man, a spaniard who had been caught nearby the castle grounds while the left wing was in flames. Father was a general in the Spanish war of succession a few years prior at the time. They made a connection of some sort. When they investigated they found some letters detailing the plot that were bound for Spain, informing family that he had avenged the lives of their sons that my father and his army had taken in the war.” 

Anybody who grew up in the north of England knew about the tragedy of the Styles family. The more Louis thought about Anne Cox being Harry’s mother the more it made sense. Harry’s father sounded all the asshole he was rumoured to be but Anne had been loved by the people, which was rare. She had the same spirit has Harry he supposed.

His mum often spoke fondly of her to him and his sisters when they were kids. Apparently she had been fighting to get plans passed to fund more education. His mum had hoped it may have given people like them a chance. Families like Louis’ who couldn’t afford private school. It was odd for him to think about how different his life could have looked if Anne’s dreams hadn’t died with her.

It was fitting that her son was changing his life thirteen years later.

“You remember when you said to me after Cowell’s attack if that was the first time I had seen somebody die?” Harry recalled. “It wasn’t. That man was. Father made me watch the hanging, watch everything. I was five years old and death just seemed to be at every corner and I didn’t even fully understand it. I just knew that my mum and Gem were gone and this man who I’d never seen before was the reason for that. That I shouldn’t feel sorry for him as he screamed and prayed until his dying breath and that was it. I was supposed to just move on like the course of my life hadn’t been changed forever.”

Louis knew what that was like. The way life was moving too fast to let you stop and grieve for what you’ve lost. He knew what it was like to lose your family. He knew what it felt like to know there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

“A few months later father married lady Angela Calder”, he continued, his underlying disfavour not well hidden, “like mother never even existed. A while after that they stopped my mother’s side from seeing me, coming over to Manchester castle. I know Lady Angela had something to do with it. She always did from then on. Soon whenever my father would take it upon himself to speak, it was like her words coming out of his mouth. She was grasping control over him and he didn’t even realise. Too blinded by his own sense of ego I can only presume.”

Harry leaned forward slightly, making sure Louis was still following all the chaos he was saying. “Calder isn’t exactly a powerful name. Not to the likes of Styles or Cox. Father had lost Cox support after mother died, they held him accountable for her death naturally. Calder was also another Northern name. Father had no more connection to the South of the country. He had lost allegiances with court officials and important higher-ups in London politics. Where I come from there are two ways you can change that. One, you hope for a war and you hope you win, returning a decorated veteran like my father. Or you marry well. Very well and very tactically.“

Louis was both sickened and intrigued as Harry recounted the intricacies of his world. It was like a massive chessboard, pieces falling and creeping closer. It was all a game and by the sounds of it, he was being used as the pawn.

Harry’s became visibly more uncomfortable as he wandered into this area of the conversation. “Arranged marriages between nobles at birth aren’t uncommon but I never was. With father thinking that I would follow in his footsteps, a wedding was something that could wait. After he married lady Angela, he put me straight into training. I soon realised my hatred for it. Even for as young as I was, I had different ideas of the sort of lord I wanted to be when I grew up.”

“After what happened, I never ever wanted to put the people around me in danger”, he said thickly, “The more he pushed me to be like him, the more resistant I became to him. To all of it, the whole life I was trapped in. It went on like that for most of my childhood until one day, out of nowhere, it all just stopped. He made no word of me skipping my combat training and he never again pestered me. Eleanor quickly became my replacement and she was better at it than I ever was. She was a girl but that didn’t matter to him after a while. I thought maybe he had had a change of heart and I could try and help him understand who I was...”

A glimpse of a feeling passed over his face, one Louis couldn’t quite place. Something reminiscent of hope or bittersweetness but it was quickly wiped away. “But that’s when we started having visitors. Lots of unmarried, high status visitors.”

Harry choked on a barren laugh. “God, I almost wish now that I had just said yes to one of the other pretentious dunces he tried to pass me off to.”

Pass him off to. Even the way Harry had worded that phrase made Louis’ blood boil but that wasn’t the only thing that struck him.

“Others?” Louis probed, “How many others?”

Louis didn’t mean for the question to embarrass him so when he saw a faint blush rise on Harry’s cheeks he immediately regretted even opening his stupid mouth. Before he could say as much Harry was replying.

“Um, maybe once a month up until last year?”, he said, slightly unsure of himself, “It slowed down a bit when I got accepted into the university in Florence. I know now that was all done to subdue me but...”

“Up until last year?” Louis repeated, confused. Harry was only eighteen. There couldn’t have been that many others. “How old were you the first time?”

Harry turned his head to the side, clutching anxiously at the pillow and avoiding Louis’ concerned eyes staring into him. “Thirteen I think.”

And Louis heard something crack inside his chest.

He was just a child. He was just a child and they tried to use him.

“Um, perhaps it was fourteen I don’t really remember”, Harry added timidly, as if he was the one who should be ashamed by it and not the people who were supposed to love and care for him. The people he was supposed to trust to keep him safe.

“I promise Louis it was never my decision-“

“Hey it’s okay,” he immediately comforted. His hand shot forward without thought and he placed it over one of Harry’s own, “you don’t need to explain anything.”

Harry eyes widened slightly at the gesture but he didn’t pull away from him at least. Louis didn’t either.

What he had said earlier was still haunting the back of Louis’ mind. “Harry, did any of them ever...?”

“No”, he dismissed hastily, “No they never got that far. They would try gain my affections for a few days but they were always well aware I wasn’t interested in marriage from the offset. Most of them were in a similar situation to me to be frank. That’s why Maxwell was never supposed to even be an option.”

The mention of his name had Louis’ free hand clenching into a fist.

“Royals are arranged the second they are born. Originally he was betrothed to a princess from the Habsburg family but the engagement fell apart within weeks of them finally meeting. At least that’s what I've been told, I’m not entirely sure I was even born yet.”

Louis felt ill at yet another memory of how much older Maxwell was than Harry.

“I was certainly around for the next five or so after that one. After Henry the royals realised that letting people behead their husbands and wives wasn’t a good image but Maxwell still managed to leave his damage. He made sure of that.”

Harry eyes flickered with uneasiness. “The people he takes, it’s like they disappear when he’s done with them. Metaphorically speaking, they lose their voice. They can’t tell of the horrors they went through but you still hear things.”

His voice began to crack. “Everyone hears things but you aren’t supposed to talk about them. How he-he’s drunk all the time and his fury an-and everyone knows what goes on. The hitting and the-the abuse and control but nobody does anything. So he just keeps hurting and hurting and nothing changes. And I- I knew someone like him wouldn’t take no for an answer and there would be nothing I could do to stop it. You don’t stop the prince of England from having what he wants. The only person who could have stopped it was father and well, there wasn’t anything I didn’t say to try change his mind on his position. It didn’t matter.”

Harry sniffled and willed away some new unshed tears that were forming. “I didn’t know what to do. I had no way out. I had nowhere to go. At least I thought I didn’t until Alessandro came to me right after father had told me what he’d done.”

“Who’s alessandro love?”

“He was my advisor and teacher but outside of those duties he was more of a parent to me. He helped me study to get into the arts university in Florence. That’s where I was supposed to go before Maxwell.”

“Is this the one with the money in Genoa?” Louis asked, trying not to interrupt him too much.

Harry confirmed with a short nod. “It was all so rushed. He burst in with a suitcase and told me that he’d been planning to get me out of England to Italy for years. He said something about having a decade or so to plan it? At first I presumed he was talking about my schooling there but it doesnt seem that way anymore. He gave me an address, told me he’d been sending his wages there and that he wished he could come with me to explain everything. He told me to find someone who could get me to genoa and that when I arrived, everything would make sense.”

Louis was still hanging onto his every word as he sensed Harry’s story coming to an end. “Thats when I fled and I found you at the docks. Alessandro had had a boat planned to come and take us to Florence but it wouldn’t be soon enough. So I saw the Bluebird and the crew and you and it was a lifeline. So I took it.”

“And I didn’t tell you or anyone anything about what had happened to me because-“, he started, wiping under his eyes quickly as a few more exhausted tears dropped, “my whole life I felt like something people just inspected, like an antique. Better for me to be seen and not heard while they pondered over if I was worth displaying on their mantles despite all the cracks and faults I possess. When I got on the ship, all of that went away. Like you said on the first night, it didn’t matter where I came from or who I was. I was just Harry and that could be enough and it-“

A small quivering breath passed through his lips. “Even if only for a little while, it felt so wonderful to be seen as a person.”

“Oh Love”, Louis said just above a whisper, his heart shattering. That’s all he could manage to say without his own swell of tears getting stuck in his throat. He didn’t even know that he was able to cry anymore. He had never felt so many different things at one time.

“I didn’t want anything to change”, Harry admitted, his features downcast.

Louis ran his thumb soothingly across Harry’s hand. “I mean, I’ve already been calling you a princess”, his lips quirked, “You may as well have told me it was true.”

For the first time since they ate that afternoon, a weak smile came to Harry face with a small wet laugh. It was fleeting but it was easily the best thing Louis had heard in a while. Maybe ever. It was a lot better than shouting at each other. He wished he hadn’t shouted at him. 

Before he knew it Harry had leaped onto him, flinging his arms around him and squeezing for dear life. As far as Louis could tell, he wasn’t crying or overly upset. He just wanted to hold onto him. The thought made something inside him flutter. He didn’t know what but something or another came alive. 

It should have been weird. They had never been so intimate with eachother apart from the not yet talked about morning situation. They could blame that on their bodies, instinctive actions built into them to survive. This though? 

He knew Harry’s emotional state had a big part to play and that he wasn’t over-thinking it nearly as much as Louis was but whatever the point, it didn’t feel weird. Not at all. 

After Louis had gotten over the initial shock that yes, Harry was on top of him, he heard a small voice by his ear. 

“I understand if you’re still mad with me.”

“I’m not mad anymore”, he promised into his curls, “Wish you hadn’t have taken off on me though. In a way im so glad it was Tom who found you first. This could have been so much worse.”

Harry sat back on his heels, still between Louis legs. If Louis had ever imagined this particular situation these decidedly weren’t the circumstances, however it had an innocent quality to it that put him on edge. But a good on edge, like there was naive anticipation in every move. Every touch was more than it was and he counted every quickened heartbeat, like it was the first time he had ever been so close to another human being. Everything felt brand new with Harry, he felt almost clean.

Almost.

“I thought you’d never want to see me again”, Harry replied lowly, eyes dropping.

“Niall would have missed you terribly if you left without saying goodbye first”, Louis joked, running his hand down Harry’s arm. He leaned into the touch, manoeuvring without a noise so that his head rested ever so lightly against Louis’ chest. He hoped he didn’t hear how his heart was leaping around his ribcage. That would just be embarrassing.

“Zayn most certainly hates me again”, he murmured.

Louis cringed slightly. He knew Harry was referring to the heated words they had griped at eachother before Louis had brought him in to talk. 

“Zayn never hated you Harry he’s just- distrustful”, he tried to explain, which wasn’t a lie. 

Harry however just nodded stiffly, halfheartedly believing him. “I suppose he has full merit to that.”

“He’s more pissed at me than he is at you and he was just paranoid because of what happened with Liam. He’ll be fine. Plus, he owed you one.”

“You all owe me nothing”, Harry disagreed, his pure genuineness sounding foreign to Louis’ ears, “You’ve all been good to me beyond reason, far more than I deserve.”

“Harry, you know that I’m not a good person right?” Louis started uncomfortably, “the things I’ve done, things I’ve had to do, you wouldn't be saying stuff like that if you knew. I’m not the hero in those books of yours.”

Why did he feel anxious spelling it out to Harry like this? He was a pirate. It wasn’t like Harry didn’t know. Hell, one of the first conversations they had was about all the ships Louis had conquered through his escapades. Though he supposed that Harry didn’t really get to see that side of him, the real him. The Captain Tommo that everyone knew. He got this one, the one who liked being called Lou but would never admit it. 

Harry twisted his neck so that he was peering up into Louis’ eyes. “You may not be the hero they write about but you saved my life. Twice”.

“That’s different”

“How?”

Because your different. 

He didnt say that out loud. Instead he reached up and twirled his fingers in a curl bobbing beside Harry’s expectant expression. He had hoped it would distract him from his lack of answer but a minute later he was still pulling his fingers through it, letting the coils drop slowly between them before repeating.

Harry didn’t make any moves to slap him away and what was he gonna do, stop himself? He was only a mere mortal. If Harry was letting him, he was going to take what he could get before they both got their senses back.

He got a sudden fright when he noticed some blood staining Harry’s temple as he brushed back his hair. 

“Christ, what happened?”, he asked him, revealing a cut just behind his temple.

Harry looked at him puzzled until he copped on to what had Louis so worried. “Oh, Tom’s guards. I fought them off but not as efficiently as I had first thought. He threw me into a wall I think. Its a bit of a blur.”

Louis hated them. He hated every single one of them. He hated himself for not being there to stop them. He hated how he didn’t see all the pain Harry was covering. He should have known.

“We can clean it properly in the morning, it’ll be okay”, he eased quietly, finding it hard to keep his anger down but Harry’s locks were most definitely helping. Besides, he needed him now. He could be there for him now.

He hadn’t had to do something like this since Zayn was younger. Zayn used to get panic attacks every now and then during the first few years. He probably still did, though Liam was the person to help him with those sort of things now. Zayn was the only other person that Louis let himself soften for. 

Or he used to be the only person anyway.

They lapsed into a quiet, the sky blending into the horizon as it darkened. Louis knew Harry had fallen asleep. He had gotten used to the pattern over the past few nights. He never let himself sleep before Harry did.

Louis peaked down at him, lightly grazing his knuckles over his cheek. Just to make sure he was actually asleep. Obviously.

His face was blotchy from crying but he looked relaxed at least. Louis had kept carding his fingers through his hair, relishing in the moment of calmness after the chaos. That paired with the nocturnal sounds of the port city through the window blocked the noise of the alarm bells in his mind.

He heard a weight disturb the floorboards and his head snapped up to see Zayn illuminated from the doorway. He hadn’t even realised the door had been opened.

Louis cleared his throat, taking his hand away from Harry’s face. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly not”, Zayn replied, eyes dipping down to the boy cradled in his arms. His tone was more curious than accusatory but still, Louis felt like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. He definitely shouldn’t have been doing that.

“Give me a minute yeah?” 

God must have been on his side because Zayn left without a second word.

Louis huffed, realising he couldn’t stay there forever. He shifted Harry off from on top of him, settling him slowly down onto the mattress and out of his hold. Another thing he learned about Harry was that when he was asleep, he stayed asleep. 

He threw his own legs over the other side and lifted himself off the bed. When he reached the handle he quickly checked that Harry was still where he left him two seconds ago. It was stupid, he knew it was. It wasn’t like he was going to disappear. Again. 

When he was satisfied that the dark outline on the bed was still Harry, he clicked the door shut behind him. “Strap yourselves in”, he announced heavily to Zayn, Liam and Niall who were all standing waiting for him.

Louis told them everything. His father, his stepmother, the marriage, Maxwell. He could see the eyebrows shooting up left right and centre as he spoke, as well as the sad blank stares when he got into the deeper stuff. He left out the more personal details. The parts just between them like how young Harry had been when all of it started. The facts were horrible enough. 

When he finally finished, they were all drained from practically reliving Harry’s life and the complete and utter mess of it.

“Holy shit”, Liam finally blurted, dropping against the back of his chair as they took it all in.

“Yeah”, Louis sighed tensely.

“How could you even like- force somebody marry a person they don’t even know”, Niall faltered. His face twisted like he’d tasted something sour, “Imagine Harry having to be...you know...actually nevermind. I don’t want to imagine that.”

Louis didn’t want to either. He had been trying to stop himself from wondering what would have happened to Harry if he had said no to him at Chester port. 

“So what do we do?” Liam asked, looking to Louis for an answer.

“We can’t leave him.” Niall said immediately before Louis could, the table turning their attention to him, “I get that it’s dangerous to have him with us and he should have told us all of this earlier but we can’t let him go back there. I’m sure the crew would be alright with it if we just explained the situation and-“ 

“Ni”, Louis cut in, pausing the Irish lads pitch, “We aren’t leaving him behind. We need to think about how we are going to do a few things first but he’s coming with us.”

While Niall’s shoulders slackened at that news, Zayn who had been suspiciously quiet stood up from his chair. “I don’t think we should be making any important decisions for now. We should all call it a night. We could do with some rest and recuperation, especially you”, he said, rubbing his hand over Liam’s shoulder as he stood behind him.

“Its just a scratch”, Liam calmed him with a fond roll of his eyes. “When did you become the responsible one in this relationship?”

“When you started getting yourself shot at”, Zayn replied with a note of sternness, “now c’mon I have the couch ready.”

“We’re pirates baby, getting shot at is sort of an occupational hazard”, Liam tried to reason with him but didn’t protest when Zayn dragged him out of his seat and over into the living room.

Niall gave him a sympathetic look as the two disappeared out of this room. “We’ve gotten through worse scrapes then this I reckon”, he said, attempting to lift the uncertain spirits. “Can’t think of one off the top of my head but I’m sure we have.”

He groaned and lay his forehead on the cold table, searching for a moment of clarity. His brain was overloaded from everything that had happened since the morning. All he wanted to do was to go back to blissfully and obliviously watching Harry doodling away in his little notebook at the end of his bed. Their bed. Was it their bed? Calling it ‘their bed’ made it sound all too couple-y for his liking.

They were two people who shared the same expanse of padded cotton. There.

Louis didn’t know how Niall did it with all this positive outlook mindset because in his mind, the situation could not have been any worse. They were shacking up in the top of a bar, seperated from the rest of the crew, the royal navy sneaking around the port, hiding a fugitive who he may or may not almost sort of maybe kinda sometimes seems like he could be feeling something for.

His head hurt.

When he resurrected off the table, Niall had vanished too. He shifted upwards and glanced into the living area where he was hitting Liam over the head with a pillow as he amassed them in a heap to sleep in on the floor.

The smell of burning tobacco wafting into the apartment enticed him to a secluded balcony facing into the alley they had jumped down into. He supposed he had to talk to Zayn at some point.

He meandered out to find him leaning out over the edge of it, cigarette dangling between his fingers. Louis walked out behind him casually, sinking down heavily into a cold metal chair tucked in the corner. It had taken him until then to notice his injured leg aching like a bitch. All the adrenaline must had finally staved off.

“You doing okay?” Zayn eventually mumbled after a gap of silence. He was definitely calmer than when they had first arrived. Or else he was concealing his nerves within the puffs of smoke. 

“Just fine”, Louis replied with waining chirpiness, “Besides the fact that we have the most valuable stowaway in the world sleeping in the room beside us. Other than that I’m peachy.”

Zayn snorted and extended his hand back with a pack of cigarettes in reach. Louis gladly accepted.

“I should have listened to you”, he admitted, drawing one out and digging for his lighter, “All along you had a feeling something was up.”

“Would it have made much of a difference?” Zayn asked, head turned and eyes slightly squinted, “I mean there’s no mystery anymore. Everything is out in the open and he’s still here isn’t he?”

Louis crossed his arms and muttered to himself like a toddler because of course he knew Zayn was right. He was right more often than not but Louis planned on keeping that thought to himself for as long as he could. 

Zayn scoffed with a shake of his head. “You really make life easier for yourself don’t you? You just had to pick someone who’s on the wanted list of the English royal family.”

“He’s not a fucking blueberry Zayn. I didn’t exactly pick him.”

“You picked him today”, Zayn refuted, knocking away ash over the balcony. “You know that as well as I do. You chose him over every rule we ever put in place to avoid shit like this.” 

Louis hadn’t been thinking enough to make a choice. There wasn’t even a choice to be made in his brain. Something else was screaming at him inside to just do. 

He really was losing his mind.

“Did I make the right decision?”, Louis asked, keeping the question as discreet as he could. He hated hearing self-doubt in his own voice.

“Its an absolutely terrible decision”, he replied with no hesitation.

That was definitely not what Louis wanted to hear. He leaned forward, elbow on his knees and crushing his face into his hands, grumbling incoherently. Why was he suddenly so bad at being a shitty person? Why couldn’t he have just left the boy at the port to fend for himself like he should have and he would never know any different. He would never have all these feelings that he couldn’t understand. They’d be dead, dormant. Destined to never come to the surface and stay shrivelled and cold like Louis had meant.

“But”, Zayn piped up and Louis dared to peak through his fingers, “I’m not saying its the wrong decision. Idiotic and crazy? Definitely. But not necessarily wrong.”

Louis seriously needed to tell Liam and Zayn to stop with all the metaphors and indirect answers.

“I agree with Niall.” Zayn finally announced, taking Louis completely by surprise, “We can’t let those fuckers get away with that. They’ve ruined enough people’s lives, I’m all for stopping them from ruining one more.”

Louis sat there gaping for a moment at Zayn’s words, then he started laughing. Actually laughing. That strange, warped laugh that comes upon someone when they think about how unbelievably crazy their life is. Zayn looked at him, half bewildered. 

“Well would you look at us”, he said with a grin, “doing our good deed for the greater good. Where’s our ‘Pirates of the year’ award?”

A subtle smile curled it way onto Zayn’s mouth. “That ones been stuck up Tom’s arse for a while now.”

Louis swayed his head side to side, considering. “Max just might have to revoke it from him after today.”

“Any ideas on how we’re going to avoid them tomorrow?”

Louis took a sharp drag of his cigarette. “Haven’t thought that far ahead yet. Harry said Tom knows we are going to Italy. With a reach as wide as theirs they’ll catch up to us eventually unless we find a way to stall them.”

Zayn turned himself around, facing Louis with hands gripping the balcony edge behind him. “Who says we even have to go to Italy anymore?”

Louis stared up at Zayn but was left none the wiser. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying do we really need to stay on route to Genoa?”, he clarified, “It stopped being about the money today Louis you know that. If this was about the money we would be five hundred grand richer and Harry would be bunking with prince Tom practising his vows.”

That was also true. Money hadn’t even been on his mind. He was a pirate who wasn’t thinking about riches. He was a pirate who passed up the win of a hundred lifetimes. He should just retire.

“He’s happy with us Louis...” he trailed off and he finally understood where Zayn was going with this conversation.

“He can’t stay”, Louis shut down swiftly, ignoring the skeptical look that Zayn was giving him. “Look at where we are and tell me that having him around is a good idea. For anyone.”

“You knew he was never exactly going to be smooth sailing in the first place but that didn’t stop you.”

“You think I would have taken him on board if I knew he was on the run from the bloody royal family?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

He knew the real complications Zayn was talking about. Zayn was talking about the type of complications where Louis liked to leave traces in the Harry’s hair when he thought nobody was watching.

That was way scarier.

“Take it from me”, Zayn emphasised, a hand on his chest, “the longer you try to stop it the worse it gets. I couldn’t stop it with Liam. No matter how much I wanted to or felt like I couldn’t. Pushing it away only makes you do stupid things. We wasted so much time avoiding the inevitable that when it finally happened, we couldn’t even remember why.”

And Louis was so glad for them. They were his best friends and they loved each other and he was happy for them. He really was but the difference between Zayn and Louis was that he did remember. He made sure he never forgot. He made sure to remind himself every single day of why he couldn’t have something like Liam and Zayn had. Why he couldn’t have someone like Harry. 

So why did he find it so impossible to remember all of that when Harry was right in front of him?

A despondent sigh came from the other lads lips as he observed Louis’ inner turmoil. “You don’t have to punish yourself for the past anymore Louis. You were a kid. We were all kids.”

Louis kept his gaze shielded with his eyebrows. “We hadn’t been kids for a long time Z.”

“It was a mistake”, Zayn insisted, “One you know I forgave you for a long long time ago.”

Louis wanted to shake his head. Zayn couldn’t really forgive him. Not fully. No matter how he said he did or how much they were brothers. Louis knew he lay awake at night too, tossing and turning and torturing himself over what had happened but Zayn didn’t have to live with knowing that it was all his fault.

“I cant afford mistakes”, he replied resolutely, keeping his tone as straight as possible, “I can’t Zayn. I’m not like you guys. Maybe in another, less fucked up world but not here. I just- I can’t.”

He could feel Zayn’s sad eyes on the side of his head but they wouldn’t change anything. He’d been trying for years but they never changed anything. 

That’s why Harry couldn’t stay. That’s why they had to stay on route to Genoa. He made Louis feel like he wanted to change and he was terrified of what that could do, what it had already done. He had just risked the lives of everyone on his crew for him without a second thought. He had completely abandoned his very job as captain. Everything he stood by to survive.

He was already changing him without even having to try.

“You’ll have to break the news to the girls then”, Zayn informed him flatly, stubbing out his stick, “Pez said they were already heartbroken enough when he bed hopped.”

Louis smirked mildly to himself. He didn’t doubt that. The fear of being hung drawn and quartered by the four of them if he returned to the ship without Harry was another propeller to get him back. 

Zayn put his hands in his pocket and strode out, pushing across the curtain separating the balcony and the inner apartment. “You coming?”

Louis waved him off with his hands. “In a few minutes. I’m going to stay out on watch for a while.”

“Louis”, Zayn directed with a firm eye, “Get some sleep.”

“Liam was right, you really are turning into the responsible one”

That sent Zayn out the exitway with an eyeroll. The curtain was pulled back into place and he realised for the first time in ages, he was by completely by himself. It was him, the moon and the drunken stragglers roaming merrily in the streets of Salé below. No ship, no crew, no Harry to snuggle into. It made the chill in the dry air all the more noticeable. 

It was still however. The boats on the water in the distance were sitting on the horizon calmly and the silhouettes of palm trees stood solid, presiding over the evenings events. The world seemed to have settled down for now. He knew it wouldn’t last, it never did but he planned on enjoying it while he could. Before tomorrow came and he had to worry about staying alive again. Keeping others alive.

Louis didn’t dare shut his eyes the whole windless night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re still here, just know that I love you and you guys are the reason I push myself to be a better writer and do my story justice. I hope everyone is doing okay and I’ll see you again soon! <3 <3


End file.
